mOBSCENE
by onelildustbunni
Summary: Julian Keller finally admits he is suffering PTSD from the events leading up to and including the battle with Nimrod. Frost sends him to counseling...where he meets a crazy chick with claws ::New X-men AU/616::Hellion/X-23:: Julian Keller / Laura Kinney::
1. don't die

**Title:** mOBSCENE

**Pairing: **Helix

**Universe: **AU/616 mixture

**Character notes: **Hellion is mostly 616, up to Childhood's End arc. X-23, in this fic, is pretty much the Laura from my other fic—Helix (just note that while her base  
personality is the same as 616, her mannerisms are different). What happens when they combine? I DON'T KNOW! Let's find out…

**A/N:** I had another weird idea…inspired by the words PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) from Snff. Interesting, my fics are inspiring—no, _spawning_—their own  
fics now. This scares me.

**Title notes: **mOBSCENE is a cool Marilyn Manson song that my guy introduced me to, bless his little heart. It seemed to fit this idea quite nicely.

**Summary: **Julian Keller finally admits he is suffering PTSD from the events leading up to and including the battle with Nimrod. Emma Frost sends him to mutant counseling  
with a popular therapist who specializes in the minority—and he meets several very strange people there, including an insane assassin chick with claws. Adventures follow.

**-1-**

_**don't die**_

* * *

"I don't _need_ therapy, Ms. Frost," Julian said, looking away, scowling.

"Your friends would say otherwise, Mr. Keller. _I_ say otherwise. This is my recommendation—I cannot force you—but if you want to recover faster—you would do well  
to follow my guidance." Emma Frost smiled grimly. "I am, after all, your councilor, my dear."

"You make it sound like I have a problem!" Julian snapped. "I don't! I'm fine! I'm just a little stressed out, okay? I have a lot going on."

Emma sighed. "Julian…you have not spoken to your friends for weeks. You have avoided them, going as far as to take different tables at lunch, in class, and as far as  
ignoring them when they _do_ speak to you. You don't answer your phone—your parents are worried—you failed four tests and failed to complete your homework  
assignments…and then this."

She was talking about Julian's energy explosion in the cafeteria. He'd gotten into a fight with someone—Alleyne—and he had injured him badly enough that Dr. McCoy  
had to take him to the medical room. He'd proceeded to hurl Ashida out the window; it had taken her three minutes to run back to the school—with super speed.

"My parents," Julian sneered. "My parents _disowned_ me. I don't really care if they're worried or not."

Emma arched her eyebrows. "They removed you from the will. They are still your flesh and blood, Mr. Keller."

"Not to me!" Julian said fiercely.

"And then…the incidents with the furniture. And your _friend,_" Emma continued, ignoring his words.

Last Sunday, Santo had confronted him, shouting—he and Cessily had tried to make Julian talk to them.

"He was pushing it!" Julian protested. He'd thrown Rockslide out the window too—three stories down—and Cessily had backed off. "Besides, he's indestructible."

"That doesn't make this acceptable behavior," Emma said firmly. "Julian—I would _prefer_ you go willingly. But, if necessary, I will inform your parents—and they have  
related to me that they are willing to sign forms to have you institutionalized."

"Wha—so that's how you deal with me! Ship me off to the funny farm!" Julian glared at her; the chandelier on the ceiling groaned. Emma looked up at it and made a  
slight tinkling noise as she shifted to her diamond form.

"Julian—"

_CREAK. _Julian looked up too, trying not to be so annoyed but failing. His temper _was_ a little extremely agitated these days—about the only thing he was feeling.

"Stop that," Emma said, her voice firm.

Julian closed his eyes, and the chandelier relaxed.

"Thank you," Emma said. "Sleep on it. I will ask for your decision in the morning."

"It won't change," he hissed, shoving the chair away and stomping out.

**…**

_Knock knock. _

Julian gasped and sat up. The sound had broken the horrifying silence of the dream—even though there had been lots of noise, plenty of noise, during the bus attack—in  
which forty-two of his friends had died—he didn't remember the sounds. It was always silent, full of tension, like a drum skin about to be broken. When there _was_ sound,  
it was always foggy and unclear, and always miserable.

_Knock knock._

He rubbed his face, got out of bed and moved to the door, his bare feet making flat noises on the wooden planks. Usually he just ignored the door, but he was tired—he  
wanted to sleep.

"Yeah—what?" he said, ripping the door open.

It was Cessily. "Julian—"

"Leave me the fuck alone, okay?!" he said, shaking his finger at her. "I'm trying to sleep! What's your problem?!"

"My _problem _is it's only 5 PM," Cessily said, baring her teeth. They looked very white between her silver lips. Colors were more vivid, now, although Julian had lost interest.  
The only color that meant anything to him was red.

"God! What the hell are you doing!" she burst. "You need a haircut like it was yesterday! You look like an emo wannabe! What next, guyliner?!"

"This is why I don't talk to you!" Julian snarled. "I bet _you're_ the one who got Frost on my case, too. Thanks a whole lot. It's _just_ what I needed."

"You need help!" Cessily said desperately. "You're not handling this right! Julian—your brother called _me_ to ask what's going on. He hasn't heard from you in forever—you used  
to call him every weekend…"

Julian slammed the door in her face, hitting her nose, but not caring. He pushed hair out of his face—he hated the fact that Cessily was right—but what was the point?

His hair would just keep growing when he died anyways. Everyone here _was _going to die. It was a deathtrap.

He sat on his bed and stared at the wall.

**…**

Emma looked up as her door opened. She was in diamond form, brooding over something—pictures of dead students—and therefore she did not sense her student approaching.

"Ms. Frost…" Julian peered in.

"Julian." Emma closed her eyes and straightened. He noticed a curl of wood on her desk—three curls, and three matching gashes.

"Julian—my advice to you—don't let yourself turn to ice," she said quietly. "Go for help, before it's too late. I do not want to see you die."

He could tell she didn't mean _die_ in the literal sense. He had a feeling her reference to ice was by experience—she was talking about herself. She looked at him with cold clear pupils.

Julian nodded slightly. "Okay."


	2. fifteen floors down

**A/N:** XD One AU element to this fic: I tried to find out what happened to Laurie's father, Dr. Sean Garrison, in New X-men Academy X (yes he **is** Julian's  
therapist here), but for the life of me I couldn't find the spot in my graphic novels. Must be the 4-day chemistry cram I just came off of. Annd yes I nearly  
spelled that chram, like Borat does...a word for...um...ok NVM! Trust me it had me snickering for a few minutes. "HAHAHA she said chram!" Anyways...in this  
fic, the events with Laurie _did_ happen...but Dr. Garrison just never got caught (regardless of what actually happened). It's just more fun if he's still floating  
around, a loose cannon waiting to go off! Blam. OK I've said too much. XD

**ANOTHER NOTE: **If you're a fan of Joss Whedon's _Angel,_ you'll recognize Lorne, who I decided to add to this comic. No worries--it's not going to become a  
crossover. He's a tertiary character. Just added him for shits n' giggles when I was thinking of who would look _really_ crazy. Two other OC characters of mine are  
in the group as well, Psyche and Catfish (you'll meet him later, and then in another fic). They all play small roles, the spotlight goes to you-guessed-it!

**-2-**

_**fifteen floors down**_

_**

* * *

  
**_

"Julian, this is Dr. Garrison," Emma said, smiling slightly, even though she wasn't happy to be here, obviously. "Dr. Garrison…this is Julian Keller."

Julian warily eyed the man in the crisp business suit with the light smile lines. He was fairly young—about his early thirties, with blond hair swept back. He  
obviously cared about his appearance.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Julian," the doctor said, smiling. Made for TV. Julian wrinkled his nose, irritated. What did _this_ man know about helping him? Had  
he watched his friends die, unable to help them? Had he fought Nimrod?

The answer was no. Julian wanted to go.

"Let's go to my office," Dr. Garrison said. "I want to ask you some questions…before the group session."

"GROUP?" Julian's head swiveled; he glared at Emma. "What the—"

"I thought it would be best," Emma said. "For you to be with people who can relate."

"I'm not an alcoholic!" Julian sputtered. "I agreed to come thinking this was just _counseling! _What the—"

"Now, Julian," Emma's eyes glowed briefly. "Please watch your language in front of the doctor. He has been kind enough to allow you to join a fully loaded  
group—he's quite popular, and successful. He will _help_ you."

"Yes," Julian droned. "Wait—no! Stop—"

"In here, Julian," the doctor said, beckoning him to follow to his office.

**…**

"Ms. Frost told me a bit about you before you actually came to see me, Julian," the man said, now behind his desk, considering him. His patient. Julian folded his  
arms, now in a chair across from him.

"…" he refused to speak.

"She told me good things about you," the doctor said encouragingly. "You were one of her most promising students—your powers are amazing, and you have a  
wonderful personality. She thought very highly of you, and promoted you to lead other mutants, wanting to give you an opportunity to grow. How do you feel—  
right now? Compared to the analysis she gave me?"

"Pissed the fuck off!" Julian sat up. "She lied to me, to get me here! I'm not sick. I don't know what she told you…but I'm not. I'm fine. All I am is a little stressed  
out…I only agreed to come 'coz she said it was private…and it would just be like talking on the phone for a while. Or something. She didn't mention the group thing!  
I would have said no!"

Dr. Garrison smiled slightly. "Anger is good—"

Julian glared at him; the pens on the man's desk, in the cup, rose into the air, clicked all at once, then slammed into the wooden surface around his fingers so hard  
that they sunk in about an inch.

"…" Dr. Garrison removed his fingers carefully. "Julian—the group is only a bonus. I'm still going to be talking to you privately. But there are some wonderful people  
in my group who—"

"Are bat-shit crazy!" Julian finished for him. "I don't give a fuck about meeting them! You can take them away and lock them in a closet, do your shock-treatment  
thing on them for all I care!"

Dr. Garrison touched his fingers together. "Julian—"

"Shut up, before I play target-practice with the lines on your forehead," Julian hissed.

"Threats will not be tolerated," Dr. Garrison said calmly. "Julian—there is nothing more pathetic than a man that won't help himself. _No one_ can help a person like that.  
Is that who you want to be?"

"Sure. Whatever. Can I leave?"

"No." Dr. Garrison glanced at his watch. "The group should be here already. Let's go to the meeting room. There's free food."

"Free? Oh wow. After the 300-bucks-an-hour counseling fee? You can't be serious."

Dr. Garrison did not comment, but smiled again and led Julian out.

**…**

"…" Julian folded his arms, in the doorway. He would not, _would not, _join that circle full of crazy people. Hell no. Dr. Garrison pointed to a chair; Julian summoned a  
donut from the buffet table and caught it with a belligerent look.

"Julian. Sit down."

"Make me," Julian said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I will!" a girl said, standing up suddenly.

"No, Laura…please, sit down," Dr. Garrison said.

Reluctantly, she did as he asked. Julian snorted in derision. Pussies. And a flatscan. His annoyance towards Dr. Garrison increased as he realized he was a human.

Human, like the people who had killed his friends.

"Julian, sit in the chair," Dr. Garrison said, his voice firm.

"No!"

"Julian—"

"Shut up, I'm eating," Julian said, licking icing off his fingers and whirling the donut around his other hand's index finger. He knew he was being a complete asshole,  
but he was in the mood to annoy someone to death. This man _was_, after all, making three hundred dollars an hour on him…might as well make him _earn_ it.

"Julian…please, sit in the chair. We're not starting without you."

"Gonna be a long session, then," Julian said.

_WHAM!_ He flew backwards, completely shocked. The donut sailed through the air and landed on someone's horn (a green guy, sitting in the circle).

Now Julian was on the ground, and the girl was on top of him, her fist pulled back, about to hit him in the face.

"No! Laura! Stop!" Dr. Garrison sounded afraid. Julian blinked, seeing double—his head had hit the floor on impact. The girl moved like a viper. She turned to look over her  
shoulder at the doctor, uncertain. "But…I can _make_ him sit in the chair," she said. "I thought that's what you wanted."

The green guy was pulling the donut off his horn with an annoyed look.

"Yes, but not through violence!" Dr. Garrison sounded frantic. "Laura—you're here to _correct_ your problems, not enhance them."

The girl frowned, then stood up, a fluid motion. "Fine. He better sit in the damn chair then, so I can get what I paid for." She walked back to the circle, her boots making  
clomping sounds on the floor; she pulled the chair out and sat down.

Julian pushed himself to his elbows, still blinking. How…how…

"Are you alright?" Dr. Garrison asked him, sounding worried. He was crouching over Julian. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Julian glared at him. "One, and it looks like this," he said, flipping the man off.

"GET IN THE FUCKING CHAIR!" the girl screamed, her voice terrifying. Julian scrambled to his knees and ran to the chair, then sat down. He didn't care about Dr. Garrison—  
but the _girl_ was quite frightening.

"Good," Dr. Garrison said. "Why don't we go over our roster again and introduce ourselves?" He sat down on his own leather chair. "Lorne, do you want to start?"

The green guy with the horns nodded. "I'm Lorne...people call me the Host. I have a long story…basically, I'm from another dimension called Pylea. My real name is  
Krevlornswath of the Deathwok Clan. I didn't like it there. One day I found a portal…"

"I'm done," Julian announced, standing up. The girl snarled, and he sat down almost immediately.

"Sylvia? Do you want to take a turn?"

A girl with a big cape and a hood that had been rocking slightly in the corner looked up. "D-did you say my name?" she asked.

Dr. Garrison nodded. "Go on, Sylvia," he said.

The girl straightened, suddenly very fierce looking. "I don't need to be here! I'm a god amongst ants! I could crush you all with my fist!" She was actually pretty, with  
purpleish black hair, and violet eyes.

Julian looked away.

"Sylvia…" Dr. Garrison said, rebuking.

"I am Sylvia Rockefeller-Black," the girl said. "Psyche. I am _Magneto's daughter…_I don't need to be here."

"Yeah, right," Julian coughed.

She glared at him.

"Julian, your turn," Dr. Garrison said.

"Absolutely not. I don't want these people knowing _anything_ about me."

"That is your choice," the doctor said. "Laura?"

The girl who had ambushed him before straightened. She, too, had black hair—it was quite long and straight; her skin was pale, and her features were quite nicely proportioned.

Boobs counted as a feature to Julian.

She rubbed her nose and Julian twitched, afraid.

"I'm Laura," the girl said. "X-23. I'm a genetic clone of—of someone. I was created in a lab, in test tubes. I was bred and trained to be the ultimate weapon." She smiled, parting  
her very red lips over her white teeth. "I'm an assassin. I've killed hundreds of people—I killed my mother."

Julian stared at her, believing.

"What the fuck are you doing here then?!" he gasped. "You should be on death row!"

Laura tilted her head. "Go on. Try it."

"This is a group for _help,_" Dr. Garrison said firmly. "Laura, I asked you to tone down your introductions."

"I'm paying him a lot of money to figure out what's wrong with me," Laura said. "I almost cried last time I killed someone. He's very effective."

"Laura!"

Julian leaned back in his chair and tried to concentrate on breathing. He had to make it back…to the mansion…and she couldn't be serious anyway. All the people here were lunatics.

Of course she hadn't killed anyone.

Right?

**…**

Julian froze as a hand shot between the closing elevator doors and yanked them open. It had black fingernails, and there were heavy, spiked bracelets on the wrist.  
It was that _girl_. She was…he was about to be trapped in an elevator with her…for fifteen floors…he panicked as she stepped in and started to rush out.

"Yeah, you're _staying, _you little fucker_,_" she said, grabbing his jacket and yanking him back in. The doors closed in front of his eyes, and he swallowed, then turned to  
face her. "I forgot my keys," he lied.

"Like hell." Laura folded her arms. "You're about to wet your pants…please don't. I hate the smell…especially when it's old. _Eww._"

Julian backed himself into the corner, as far away from her as he could manage.

"So, yeah. _You're_ going to treat the good doctor better," Laura said. "You were being rude to the poor man. All he's trying to do is help."

"…" Julian glanced at the elevator numbers, on top. _Fourteen_. Why did it seem to be moving so slowly?! Why did the man have to work in a _skyscraper?!_

"And it's rude not to answer," Laura hissed. Between one breath and the next she was across the elevator, holding Julian by the collar. "Listen to me, you idiot!"

"Leave me alone!" he shouted, trying to push her away. She was so strong, and fast.

"Not until you _promise_ me you'll do what he says, from now on," Laura said. "And I make people keep their promises."

Julian stared at her. "…"

"PROMISE!" Laura twisted his collar; he couldn't breathe suddenly.

"AHHHCK! OKAY OKAY!" he gasped, his throat burning.

Laura tightened the collar, then slammed him back into the wall. "Good," she said, her voice normal again.

"You're crazy. You're completely insane," Julian said, rubbing his neck. He glanced up—_eleventh floor._

Laura grinned, showing him her rows of white teeth. "And?"

"And—you _do_ kill people, don't you?" he asked.

"Yup," she said. "I make a lot of money. Hundreds of thousands. You should see my place, it's awesome."

"No thanks," Julian mumbled.

"I wasn't inviting you!" She snarled. "God! I'd have to fumigate! You're disgusting, and I'm upset that Dr. Garrison let you in the group…I paid _a lot_ of money to participate,  
and now he's gone and spoiled the lovely atmosphere."

"Get him to take me off his 'roster'," Julian said blandly.

"No. _You_ need help," Laura said. "Badly. You need to start by cutting your hair. I _hate_ when boys try to pull off the rock star look and grow long hair."

Julian made a _fffpt_ noise and rolled his eyes. Here was bat-shit crazy girl—in the flesh—telling _him_ that _he_ needed help.

"I can cut it for you," Laura said suddenly.

"WHAT? Stay the fuck away!" Julian pressed himself into the corner again. She'd—oh god, she'd popped metal claws. Like Wolverine's. He wanted to start hyperventilating, but he  
was past that point. He'd been wrong—completely wrong. He wasn't going to die at the mansion.

_He was going to die in this elevator._

"Just stay still! I know what I'm doing!" she snarled, advancing.

Julian remembered his powers at that moment and slammed her against the other wall of the elevator, upside down. How could he have _forgotten_ them? She made a  
snarling noise and struggled.

_Seventh floor._

"Ground rules. You don't touch me, you don't talk to me, you don't talk in my presence…you don't kill people. UNDERSTAND?" Julian said, shaking his finger at her. She bared her  
teeth and snapped at the air centimeters away. "And you _DON'T TOUCH MY HAIR!"_

He backed away and leaned against his corner again, watching the numbers count down as he held Laura against the other wall. She was silent now, watching him  
with her creepy green eyes.

"You're just a scared little boy," she said, at the third floor. "I've killed people like you. You act all big and tough…and when it comes down to it…there's nothing there. I enjoyed killing  
_those ones_ the most." She gave him that grin again.

_Bloodthirsty._

_Main floor. _

"Oh thank god," Julian burst out of the elevator, dropping the girl roughly as he raced across the lobby of the building. His shoes made squeaking sounds on the marble floor.

"Hey—wait!" the girl ran after him and caught his wrist. "I didn't say you could go!" Julian turned to look at her, and was vaguely surprised to see that she didn't look angry. Actually, she  
looked normal—friendly, almost. "I mean—do you want to, uh, talk? About what brought you here?"

"Hell no!" Julian snapped in her face, twisting his arm to free his hand. "I don't want to breathe the same _air_ that you've been in, you little psycho bitch. Go hug one of your  
corpses or something." He pushed open the glass door with his mind—_TINKLE._ The glass shattered, but he didn't care; he let it swing shut behind him, straightening his  
jacket as he stomped out.

The air was fresh—it was good to be outside. Julian looked around the street—it had just rained. He felt—he felt something. Happy to be out of there, that was it! Ignoring Emma's  
request that he take a cab home (on the mansion's expense), he took to the air, becoming a green comet in the sky.

The girl watched him go, having stepped through the broken glass door carefully. She shrugged to herself, then moved down the street a bit, stopped beside a motorcycle, then  
hopped on and revved the engine.


	3. fugly

**A/N: **I'd like to thank...my cousin's uncle's neighbor's brother's wife's niece's college roommate's cat, Larry. Or that's what I would have liked to have said at my awards  
ceremony today...oh my _god,_ could anything else have possibly gone wrong? 1) I was late (apparently I ran down the audatorium stairs a second after the presenter asked  
if anyone was missing). 2) I went to the wrong place, sat in the auditorium and chatted away till I realized hmm why the hell do those _other_ people have nametags? OH SHIT!  
mad dash to the reception area (which I had missed beforehand). I managed to blurt out a good acceptance speech, then I started walking off the stage and they had to wave  
me back on. Quite impressive, I was. Now I have to write a thank-you letter. "Deer Mees DonaTORZ, can i has sum moer? kkthx"

On the subject of THX--major thanks to my bf for transferring me three marilyn manson cds. Fuck_yeah!!

Annnnd oh wow I walked into a comic shop today...took a look at the misc X-men section for shits and giggles...bam! 3 of the House of M New X-men Academy X!! I grabbed them  
and practically snarled at people to get out of my way. Well, not quite. The snarling came later. OK I'm joking no snarling. Not that far gone **yet**. Wow..._that_ had to be my favorite  
rendering of Julian yet! _That_ is definitley the one from my stories. It also gave me a good idea for a Laura prank in the reg Helix series. Poor him.

On with the show!

**-3-**

_**fugly**_

_**

* * *

  
**_

"Julian, that's ridiculous," Emma said. "Dr. Garrison is a good man. I've read him. He would not harbor a _killer_ in his therapy group. Your not attending,  
by the way, is out of the question."

Julian folded his arms. "What?! I got _assaulted_ in the elevator by the girl. There is no way I'm going back there. End of story. Period."

Emma folded _her_ arms. "Mr. Keller, you _will_ attend…if you wish to stay at this school. I will not allow you to stay if you discontinue you attendance of  
the therapy sessions…yes, including the group sessions. End of story. _Period._"

"…" Julian stared at her. Was she serious? Would she really send him away?

"I _am_ serious," Emma said. "You will make an effort to fit in—or there is no place for you here. Your next session is on Monday. Group sessions are every  
Friday evening. I will allow you funds for the cab—and a small allowance to spend as you see fit. From my own pocket."

"Are you trying to buy me off?" Julian shot.

"Hardly," Emma said. "There's nothing to _buy._ I am merely trying to treat you to something nice, in appreciation of your cooperation. Julian…I know you  
will never be truly _happy _again…but I would like you to not be so hard on yourself."

"…" Julian stood up and knocked his chair aside. "I'll be happy when everyone's breathing again," he mumbled, then he stomped out. It seemed to be his  
regular gait these days—stomping. Unless he was flying. He wanted to fly—he wanted to fly _everywhere,_ but those damn ONE sentinels…

**…**

Friday came way too soon, and he walking towards the elevator again. They'd fixed the door like it had never happened, his breaking it. His shoes made  
squishing sounds on the floor; he nearly slipped in one place, just catching himself. He shook his hooded head angrily and slammed the button on the  
elevator. Up.

_Bang! Squeak squeak squeak…_

He tried to ignore it, but of course. Of course it was _that girl_…he shuddered, even though he couldn't see her.

_Rustle._

"HI!" She shouted, right beside his ear. He jumped back and hit the wall, his hands still in the pockets of his sweatshirt.

"Thanks," he said, glaring. Then his eyes widened. The girl's t-shirt was shredded—_shredded_—as in it was barely hanging onto her—and it was soaking wet.  
With blood. He could see her pale skin under it, and he swallowed. Whose blood was it then?

The girl grinned. "Like my shirt?" she asked.

"Oh, god. Please don't get in the elevator with me. No—I'll wait here. You go ahead."

"How nice of you," she said. The door opened—she grabbed him by his sweatshirt sleeve and pulled him in with her.

"NO!" he yelled, struggling to get away.

She rolled her eyes. "You'll be late if you stay. Besides, you've got to quit being so afraid of me. I mean—I'm flattered, believe me—but it's not going to work  
so well in that tiny therapy room…"

"…" Julian backed into his corner again and looked at her. His jaw dropped—as she had been speaking, she had pulled off her bloody shirt, and she was wearing  
a black mesh see-through bra.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" he asked, even more creeped out.

Laura grinned and pulled something out of her jacket pocket, now on the ground. A small t-shirt. She tugged it on over her head and down her toned body, then  
picked up the jacket again and shrugged it on, the bloody, messy t-shirt in her hand.

"Can't go to therapy covered in blood," Laura said reasonably. "Doctor will think I'm crazy, then."

Julian looked away, not believing her nerve. _Fourth floor._ The elevator seemed to be moving a bit faster today; perhaps it had been broken, and they had fixed it.

"You didn't answer me last time. Why are you here?" Laura asked. "You're not half as crazy as the rest of them."

"…" Julian couldn't get over the fact that the craziest one of the group thought _she_ was sane enough to judge the others.

"Well?"

"I saw a lot of shit, okay?" Julian said, glaring at her.

"Like what?" Laura pressed. Her shirt dripped on the floor.

"…" Julian shifted. "A lot of people close to me died. And I nearly got killed myself, a few times. Good enough for you?"

"Maybe," Laura said thoughtfully. "How many people?"

"Jesus Christ! You're so sick!" Julian said. "Forty-two! And my girlfriend left me the same night! Alright, is that enough for you? They were all my friends too!"

"Depends. Were they _friend_ friends, or just acquaintances?"

"…" Julian didn't answer her.

"Wait a minute—this wasn't in Colorado, was it?" Laura raised an eyebrow. "If it was, I might've had something to do with it, which would suck for you."

"—!—" Julian stared at her. "Oh my god!"

"Was it?" Laura demanded.

"No! It was here! But you're a horrible horrible person!"

Laura shrugged. "I've been told. I don't think so, really. I mean…that Colorado thing wasn't my fault…it was a side effect of something I did. There are sicker  
people than me out there." She grinned.

"I doubt it," Julian mumbled, looking away.

"So…you're single now, huh?"

"Not for _you_," Julian said viciously.

_DING!_ The doors opened, and Julian stomped out, followed by Laura, with the dripping, bloody shirt. She looked around, then stuffed it behind the trunk of a  
potted palm tree beside the elevator doors and straightened her shirt. "There…all nice and tidy," she said.

Julian was already up the corridor, towards the horrible _room_. Laura jogged behind him, her boots making heavy thuds on the carpet. He idly thought that it  
was like some sickening sound effect from a horror movie.

He finally reached the open door, and peered in.

"Julian! So glad you came again!" Dr. Garrison smiled.

"Yeah, well…" Julian entered and went straight for the buffet table. If he had to sit there, he was going to eat anything he could get his hands on. There  
were subway sandwiches, and cookies, and apple pastries…he took two of everything.

Sylvia got up, walked to the cookies, and started touching them _all _with her fingers. Julian looked at Dr. Garrison, afraid, but the doctor shook his head,  
to indicate that she hadn't done it before.

"'Scuse me!" Laura's arm reached around him, and a claw popped into a sandwich.

"Gahh!" Julian tried to back away, but she was squarely behind him—he finally moved to the side, staring fearfully at her appendage as she retracted her  
claw, catching her prize with her other hand. "Mmm, roast beef," she said.

He wondered were her claw had been that day, then decided not to think about it.

He was much happier not knowing.

**…**

"Let's talk about what we all did today," Dr. Garrison said pleasantly. "Lorne, do you want to start?"

Lorne blinked. "Three people came to the bar I work at, and sang for me. My powers shows me people's futures when they sing…and tonight, I foresaw  
that one of them was going to die of cancer."

Silence, except for the sounds of chewing.

"Sylvia?" Dr. Garrison said, undeterred.

"You needn't know what I did with my day!" Sylvia said, her voice shrill. Then…"I played with my neighbor's cat, and weeded the flowers, and had toast.  
With milk. I got sick because I'm lactose intolerant."

Silence, except for the sounds of chewing.

"Julian?"

"Go to hell." Julian took another bite of Subway.

"Very well," Dr. Garrison sighed. "Laura?"

Laura struggled to swallow her mouthful. She finally succeeded, took a drink of soda, and began.

"Let's see…I had a job for a client. Hundred grand to off a guy. So I posed as a stripper in his favorite strip club…he pulled me off the floor for a private show.  
I let him paw me—he was rough, ripped my shirt up. Gutted him, severe mortal wounds to the intestines, ribs, solar plexus and throat. Left him in the booth,  
cleaned up and came here." Laura took another bite of sandwich.

Silence, except for Laura's chewing. Julian put his plate down. "I'm leaving," he said.

"No you're not," Laura said between swallows. "Go on…tell us about _your _day. I'm dying to here what Mr. Sesame Street did with the time he didn't spend  
in group therapy."

"…" Julian glared at her. "Fine! I tried to sleep, and all I could see when I closed my eyes was me having to run over my friends to get away from the bombs!  
That good enough for you?"

"It's a start," Laura said. "Can we have sound effects? Like _snap snap_ from breaking bones or something?"

"…" Julian stood up.

"Sit down," she hissed. He sat down, afraid of her again.

Dr. Garrison blinked. "Well…I'm glad you're starting to share, Julian," he said.

**…**

Elevator. "Come on, come on…" Julian slapped the button again. He'd rushed out of the room while Laura paused to ask the doctor a question; he was desperately  
hoping to grab the elevator and get to the ground floor before she could turn up again.

_Thump thump thump._ Her boots on the carpet.

"Going somewhere?" she called.

_DING!_ Julian threw himself into the elevator and pressed the 'Main' button with his mind. Oh, god, he was going to make it…Laura was still too far away…he closed his  
eyes in relief as the doors slid shut, then opened them.

"AHHHHH!" he shouted. She was standing in the elevator, her arms folded, the bloody t-shirt now in her hand. _Drip drip drip._

"…" he backed into his usual corner. "What the—why are you taking that t-shirt again?!"

Laura shrugged. "I don't have a lot of clothing."

"You said you made hundreds of thousands," he said suspiciously.

"This is my favorite shirt," Laura said easily, avoiding his question. "I was pretty mad when that old fat pervert ripped it. That's why I went through the trouble of  
gutting him. I mean, normally I make it clean…little slice to the windpipe gets them every time…"

"You're crazy, you know that?" Julian brushed his hair out of his eyes. "You're…you're obscene, is what you are!"

"You _really_ need to cut your hair," Laura said, ignoring his comment. "I can tell you didn't wear it long before, you know. The ends are pretty even…it was  
about an inch long, wasn't it? And spikey?"

Julian stared at her. "…yes," he said, afraid.

"I'm sure it looked better," she said, brushing her own hair behind her ear.

"Why do you keep trying to talk to me?" he asked.

Laura paused. "Well, it's not really trying. I _am_ talking to you…and you're talking back. Yapping, really…but I don't know…I guess you're interesting?"

"Why?" Julian unstuck himself from the wall just a little bit.

"I don't know," Laura said again. "I have no idea—you're butt ugly. Fugly, even."

"WHAT?" Julian glared at her. "I am not! I'm the hottest guy at my school. I can't count on two hands how many girlfriends I've had!"

"Exactly—because there were _none_," Laura said, grinning. "Oh, god, if you're the hottest…I'd hate to see the _ugly _ones! It's the hair, for sure. That and  
the fact that you're so scared of me…I hate wimpy men."

"I am _not_ scared of you," Julian snapped. "You're a foot shorter than me. I could take you with one hand tied behind my back—and blindfolded."

"Hahaha!" Laura threw back her head and laughed, which irritated him immensely. _Fifth floor. _"You couldn't fight your way out of a wet paper bag, boy, let  
alone _me._ I already handed your ass to you, on one of the paper plates from that buffet table."

"Pfft." Julian looked away. "I wasn't expecting it."

_Ding! _The door opened.

"No one ever is," Laura said as she followed him out. "Hey—you in a hurry anywhere? You want to grab coffee?"

"No," Julian said. "I absolutely have to be home, this instant." He pushed the door open with his forearm, took a few running steps, then he was flying; someone  
in the street below looked up through their sunroof, yelled and pointed. He was gone.

The girl shrugged and went to her bike again.


	4. cherry lips

**A/N: **So I sat down and spent a good little while talking to this story, and it told me that while it is not becoming explicit, it _is_ quite obscene. If you have a weak stomach  
regarding assassins blood and hookers...don't read it. Fair warning. No sexually explicit content though, as per fanfic policies.

**++ COWPIE II HAS BEEN PUBLISHED :) ++  
**

* * *

**-4-**

**cherry lips**

**

* * *

  
**

"So…how's therapy going?" Cessily asked Julian in class. He stared straight ahead, as usual, pretending she didn't exist. He didn't know _why_ he did it—wait, no,  
that was a lie. It was less painful to lose people if he didn't like them.

"Hrumpf," Cessily turned to Santo, on her other side and rolled her eyes.

Julian looked at the papers on his desk, and tossed his head, to shift the hair out his eyes. It wasn't _that_ long. And—and he was still hot. He didn't know what the hell  
that _girl_ was talking about—he also didn't know why he was still thinking about it. She was nothing to him—he never wanted to see her again. She made him angry,  
and scared, and—and she was sick, very sick.

**…**

After class, Julian lay on his bed, his mind still on his hair. He was annoyed that he was concerned with something so petty; hair didn't _matter_ anymore. He kept hearing  
the words over and over again—her derisive tone. _You're butt ugly. Fugly, even. _ Like she really, really meant it.

"Grr." He summoned his jacket off the peg and stomped out of his room.

**…**

That Friday, Julian was fortunate enough to arrive far before Laura, and therefore had the elevator all to himself (he found he enjoyed the ride up, for some odd reason,  
knowing how horrible it _could _be when _she_ was there).

He trekked down the hallway, his hands in his sweatshirt pockets; he heard voices in the meeting room. They stopped when he was in hearing range; poking his head in,  
he saw that it was Laura, standing in front of the Doctor. She looked at him for a minute, then sat down in the chair. Dr. Garrison left the room.

Julian wondered what it was that she didn't want him to hear. She liked to tell everything to everyone, it seemed; nothing was awkward to her.

He sat down in his usual chair with a loud sigh, his hood still on. Laura narrowed her eyes at him, then struck—he thought she was attacking him and he grappled with her  
momentarily, terrified—but she was pulling his hood down.

"I _KNEW_ IT!" she shouted, running her fingers through his now-short, spiky hair.

"Oh my god—stop touching me!" He pushed her away, shuddering. Images of her covered in blood danced before his eyes—then other bloody images. He closed them, shifting uneasily.

Laura sat back down in her seat, an annoying smirk on her face. It spoke volumes. It also made her lips look full, and very red with her lipstick. Wait—was it lipstick or blood?

"Hah. You _do_ have brain cells, after all. Where do you keep them—your butt?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Julian said, looking away at the buffet table. A row of jello cups sparkled in the light, topped with whipped cream. "Oh, wow. Is that made  
of like caviar or something?"

"No," Laura said. "Notice it's orange? I overheard Dr. Garrison chewing out his secretary for ordering _green_, at first. Apparently he was scared of hurting Lorne's feelings." She  
considered him. "I wish someone was scared about hurting _my_ feelings! It must be nice."

"You don't _have_ feelings," Julian said. "You're too…"

"Mhmm," Laura said. "So I've been told. I'm just a shell full of horrible things."

Julian was silent. That was almost exactly what he was going to say. The matter of fact way she said it made him feel almost…bad. _What the hell?_ He wondered. __

She is _only a psycho serial killer…_he folded his arms.

"So, you wanna—"

"Alright, sorry about that, I had to let the secretary know about something,"

Dr. Garrison was back, smiling at them. "I'm so glad you're _talking_ to people, Julian! And your hair looks wonderful."

"I'm regretting it," Julian grumbled, pulling his hood back on.

**…**

"Sylvia? What did _you_ do today?" Dr. Garrison asked in his smooth, comforting voice. "Did you see your neighbor's cat again?"

"No," Sylvia said, her voice thin. "I ate soup. WITH CRACKERS! I slept for eighteen hours. I dreamt that my father finally came for me. When I woke up, it was just  
the mailman. I was disappointed."

Dr. Garrison nodded and made a note on his clipboard. He carried a clipboard during all the meetings; he likes to make check marks a lot, Julian noticed. He wondered  
if it was for what medications his patients needed, or for symptoms.

"Julian? Do you have something to share with us?" Dr. Garrison asked.

"I had a dream that I rammed your clipboard down your throat and I never had to hear you speak again," Julian said, his arms still folded.

Dr. Garrison sighed.

"Lorne? What about _you?_"

"It's all the same," Lorne said sadly. "Death and more death. I just can't get away from it these days—it's all the future I see."

"Laura?"

"Maybe Lorne's been hanging out with my targets," Laura suggested.

Julian snorted, then covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes wide. He hadn't done _that_ for…forever. Nothing was funny anymore. Dr. Garrison glanced at him, and Laura  
smiled, obviously pleased. Why…why had he laughed at something she'd said? He was just encouraging her…

**…**

"So…the emo smiled today," Laura said, dogging him to the elevator. There was no way he was going to be able to loser her. She reached behind the palm tree as they waited  
for the elevator, and pulled out a messenger bag. It looked full; she made a small noise as she hefted it around her neck.

"Mmm," he said, pressing the button again.

"Did it hurt? Is your face aching now?" she persisted.

"Shut up." The doors parted and he stepped in, pressed the button, then retreated to his corner, his hands in his sweater pockets.

Laura tucked her bag around to her back. He looked away, wishing she didn't take the elevator. Why couldn't she be one of those people who took the stairs? Why—Laura's palm  
was on the 'elevator stop' button.

"MMMPH!" He hadn't seen it coming, he really hadn't. Laura had knocked off his hood and was currently doing something to his face, her arms wrapped strongly around his  
neck. He finally figured out she was kissing him, quite hard. He worked his fingers onto her shoulders then pried her away, breaking the contact with a loud _smack!_

"What…the…I mean, _really?_ What the FUCK do you think you're doing?!" he finally pieced together, his face pale.

She shrugged, a little noncommittal gesture. "It felt right," she said. "You cut your hair. I told you, that's why I thought you were ugly. Now you're pretty hot."

Julian stared at her. "You—you can't just go _kissing_ people 'coz they're hot," he gaped.

Laura tilted her head and pursed her very red lips. Like blood red cherries. "Why not? Most men don't mind. They're usually pretty excited when I let them touch  
me. _I'm_ not ugly, you know."

"I—" Julian stopped himself. "That's not what I was saying. Look—I don't know _what_ kind of guys you've been hanging around…but I don't work that way…I have to  
at least like the person before I even _consider…_"

"Oh," Laura raised her eyebrow. "You don't like me?"

"Not really," Julian said. "I daydream about having the elevator empty."

"Oh," Laura said. But she didn't seem hurt. This creeped him out more; she wasn't moving. "So—you want go out with me for dinner or something?" she asked, as if she  
hadn't heard a word he'd said.

"I—" he paused, trying to think of a way he could say it so she'd understand.

She nodded. "I'll take that as a yes. Oh, wow, can we fly there?! That must be such a _cool_ power. I mean—"

"No," Julian said firmly. He touched the button on the elevator again with his mind, and the descending movement picked up again. "Laura…we're not _going_ anywhere together.  
I don't want to see you outside of the group. End of story."

She paused.

"Try this," she said, leaning forward, slower this time. "Maybe I was too rough…some guys like it wild, some don't. _I_ like it wild…" she brought her hand down his jaw and  
fingered his ear. He focused on her for a second—something he'd never really done before. Evaluating her. She licked her teeth, and he didn't resist this time when she  
moved forward. _This is crazy…_ he thought.

**…**

When the doors opened, he followed Laura outside—yes, followed her—to her bike, wondering what the hell he was doing. He should be going back to the mansion, to his life—not  
trying to escape it. This was crazy and stupid. She handed him a helmet—he put it on, then noticed she was getting on the bike without one.

"Wha—no way!" He ripped it off and handed it back to her. "Not going to be the only one with one!"

"Suit yourself," Laura shrugged.

"We'll all die _someday,_" he said.

"That's how I advertise myself. Then I go on to point out how I can make it happen faster to people you don't like—for the right price," Laura said.


	5. escort

**A/N: **Yaay another chapter of mOBSCENE. I love this story, it's awesome to write.

**Interesting note: **Some of the elements of this story have been influenced by Margaret Atwood's _The Blind Assassin, _an awesome story. There is actually a  
passage I use in one chapter to describe Laura that she used to describe a character (also ironically named Laura) in _her_ book. I will cite it in the chapter it  
is used in.

* * *

**-5-**

**escort**

**

* * *

**

Julian sat across the table from the crazy girl from his therapy group, and wondered what he'd just signed himself up for. She was studying her reflection in the salt shaker;  
she dug into her bag, then pulled out a tube of red lipstick and applied a fresh coat.

He stared at his own reflection in the pepper shaker. His hair was sticking up everywhere-now short-and his lips had pink all over them-red in spots. It was quite obvious  
what _he'd_ been doing. He grabbed the napkin and tried to wipe it off, not wanting people to _know_ how easy and vulnerable he was, that he'd just made out with a complete  
stranger that was certifiably insane.

"Wipes my kisses off," Laura said, in a voice he guessed was meant to be teasing. He stopped, the napkin over his mouth and nose, and looked at her.

"I-I don't know what the hell I'm doing," he said. "I don't know why I'm here at all. I...Laura, you scare me. Quite a bit. Do you even _know_ how crazy you are?"

She looked serious for the first time that day. "No. That's...that's why I want someone _normal_ around. So they can tell me if I'm crazy. I don't really know myself...it's a long story.  
You're about the only sane person I can talk to."

He put the napkin down. "I'm not sane, Laura," he admitted.

"Pfft." Laura rolled her eyes and smiled. "You're as sane as a...well...you're normal. You're _unhealthy,_ right now, but you're normal. Being unhealthy after a bad experience...it  
happens. I've been there, more times than I can count. But true sanity is precious and not everyone has it." She looked sad. "I don't know if I'm really sane or not. But it's not my fault."

She scooped the bag closer to herself as Julian watched her.

"What's in it?" he asked her.

"Plastic explosives," Laura said calmly. "I have a job after this."

"-!-" Julian started. "Oh my god-Laura-a b-"

"SHH!" She looked fierce. "Don't _say_ it, idiot!"

Julian tried, very hard, to stay calm. "And just what are you planning to blow up tonight? Anywhere I know?"

"No," Laura said. "Well-maybe. I'm taking down a mob boss-the Kingpin."

Julian stared at her.

"I took down his predecessor," Laura added. "My man received orders from Wilson Fisk to clear the Kingpin position; he's coming back."

"Your _man?_" Julian asked. He suddenly realized he hadn't checked to make sure she was single too, before letting her attack him in the elevator. _Oh god._

"My...boss," Laura said. She looked away. "My pimp."

Julian stood up. "Bye," he said. She caught his wrist. "No, please..."

"You're a hooker!" he hissed. "I have to go home and take STD tests now, thanks!"

"No you don't," Laura mumbled. "I...I have a healing factor. I can't carry diseases, or be physically hurt, for more than .9 seconds."

"Good for you." Julian looked away, leaning his chin on his hand. "I'm pretty sure you have Syphilis, regardless."

"Thanks," Laura said, looking at the laminated triangular menu standing on the table top that said _Alcoholic beverages. _"Want something to drink?"

"I'm eighteen," Julian hissed. "I can't."

"Pfft. Sure you can...you just tilt your head back and swallow. It's like drinking anything else...only better." Laura stuck out her tongue at him, revealing a  
piercing-a metal ball bearing. He stared for a moment.

"How-how old are _you?_" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"21, according to my ID cards. My name is also Alexa Dea, and I'm from South Carolina," Laura said pleasantly. "Well-that's only one set of ID. I have seven  
passports, at the moment. I kind of collect them as a hobby. If I combine all the ages, I'm 173 years old."

"..." Julian thought about it, then decided this fit with her occupation. "I asked you how old _you_ are, not how old your pretend to be."

Laura watched him for a moment, her eyes appraising. "Seventeen," she said finally. "I haven't ever acted my age, so don't tell me to."

"I wasn't going to," Julian said, looking at the menu himself. "Fine. What's good, then, Ms. Expert?"

"I like red wine," Laura said. "The house beer is good here, too."

"I'll have that then," he said. "You'll have to order it...I don't carry illegal things, like-_bombs_-and fake IDs. I'm one of the good guys."

Laura raised an eyebrow, tilted her head and smiled at him slightly. "One of the good guys, hmm? Girls always flirt with the bad guy..."

"...but they go home with the good guy," Julian finished. It was a movie quote, something they had both obviously watched; Laura let her thumb ring slide off her finger,  
onto the table, and she began to play with it, rolling it on the surface with her index finger.

"So...what was that green stuff?" Laura asked. "It looked like-"

"Telekinesis," Julian said.

"Must be handy," Laura said airily. "Do you-"

"No, I don't read minds," he said, annoyed. People always followed with this question. "Isn't it enough that I can move shit without touching it? Do I _have_ to be able  
to fuck with your head, too?"

"I was going to ask you if you like being a mutant," Laura said.

He blinked. "That's a loaded question."

"Of course it is," Laura said. "So do you, or don't you? _Everyone _has an opinion on this, trust me."

"I..." Julian looked at the table. "I loved it, at first. Then I saw how evil people can be. I still...I still like it...but..."

"Evil people have nothing to do with being a mutant," Laura said sharply. "It's their problem. Do you think you're the only person to ever suffer prosecution for being  
different? How about all the blacks, the Asians, the gays, the lesbians that have suffered hate and prejudice for just that thing?"

Julian nodded. "Do you-what about you? Do you like being a mutant?"

"I'm not a mutant," Laura said indifferently. "I'm synthetic. I'm a clone of a mutant. I'm the worst scum of the earth-my own little minority group. According to just  
about everyone, including mutants, I don't even have a soul." She stopped rolling the ring. "I figured, if I don't have a soul, and I'm really good at what I do, I might  
as well do it. I find people like me. Soul-less. And I kill them."

Julian raised his eyebrows. "I thought you said you worked for someone."

Laura shrugged. "I do. I...I need direction. I need someone to tell me what to do. It was my childhood that made me this way...that's just how I am. So he handles  
things for me-finds jobs, takes a cut of the money."

"You said he was your pimp," Julian said, his eyes narrowing.

Laura smiled. "Even I have to fuck," she said, although it didn't sound crude coming from her lips. It was so matter-of-fact. "Might as well get paid for it. The  
world revolves on money, you know."

Julian leaned back, considering her. She was-she _was_ crazy, but she seemed intelligent. "I don't," he said.

"What? Need to fuck or revolve on money?"

"Both," he said. "Money's overrated."

A girl wearing fishnets (everywhere) as well as some sort of mini-skirt dress came up to their table. "Hey y'all. What can I get for you?"

Laura held up her finger. "I'm good. I'm very, very good. Listen. He's having...the house beer, and a cheeseburger with no tomatoes...he has an allergy to them...and  
he wants the mayo and ketchup on the side, because he's anally retentive and likes to apply it himself."

Julian stared at her. How had she...

"I'll have the same-put everything _on_ mine, though," Laura smiled. "I hope you won't charge like some sort of disassembly fee on _his_ order."

The waitress smiled. "No," she said, making a note on the pad, then she took the menus away.

"What the-" Julian began.

"Chemical scent analysis," Laura said, sliding her thumb ring back on. "You lack the enzymes to properly digest tomatoes, and therefore you get a histamine reaction.  
You also look like a control freak, so you'd want to be in control of any amounts you could possibly moderate."

"Damn." Julian was impressed. "How-"

"I have an enhanced sense of smell," Laura said, tapping her nose. "It's my cloned mutant power. Well, aside from healing from anything. And the claws."

"Laura-" Julian leaned forwards. "Are you _Wolverine's_ clone?!"

"..." she stared at him. "How do you know Wolverine?!" she asked.

"He lives in the same place I do," Julian said.

"..." for a moment, Laura looked furious-then her expression changed back to her usually teasing, seductive norm. "You live together? Are you part of one of  
those other minorities I was talking about?"

"No!" Julian curled his lip at her. "It's a school. Xavier's."

Laura watched him for a second, then reached over the table and kissed him, biting his lip slightly. He stiffened, and she pulled away, smiling. "It looked  
good. I like it when you're all pissed off and defiant."

"..." Julian looked away. His lips were tingling where she'd touched him. She _was_ pretty good at what she did-certainly nothing like any of the girls he'd  
kissed before. She knew what she was doing. _Of course, she's a hooker!_ he snapped at himself quite violently.

"Your skin is pretty smooth," she noted. "Haven't hit puberty yet?"

"Of course I have," he replied, arching his eyebrows. "I can manipulate matter on the molecular level."

"Interesting," Laura said. "I've never thought of how a telekinetic shaves before."

"There's not too many of us left," Julian replied. The waitress was coming back with their drinks; two frothy mugs of beer.

"Why didn't they card us?" he asked when she had left again.

Laura shrugged. "Because they're not a respectable establishment? The food is good, though," she said, taking a sip. "So...about your special  
shaving talent...I hate getting bikini waxes-"

"Forget it," Julian said, after nearly choking on his drink. "Not going _near_ that."

"You're just scared," Laura grinned. "I bet you wouldn't know what to do with me, if I let you get to that point." She raised her eyebrow; he sneered  
again. "Yeah, that's not going to work. You're trying to make it a challenge for me. Well, guess what? I'm not falling for it. Find someone else to infect."

"I was just saying," Laura said innocently. "It was an observation. I wouldn't sleep with you. I mean...you're attractive, but you're so messed up...and  
you're a stereotypical teenager. I like _men,_ not little boys."

Julian smiled grimly. "And I bet you've never been in love. All you've had is one-night stands...all you have is lots of experience to do nothing with."

Laura shrugged. "Hey, it felt good every time," she said. "Well-okay-a couple times-this once, my client couldn't-"

"Spare me," Julian held up his hand. "I'm about to eat...it's hard to do if I'm gagging."

**...  
**

"That was..."

"Awkward?" Julian suggested. "The strangest thing ever?"

Laura looked unruffled. "I was going to say nice. I had fun, it was different. But if you like to think of it that way, go ahead. Awkward is always good times."

"..." Julian rubbed his neck. They were standing outside the restaurant, in the still-wet street, with mist falling down on them. Laura's hair had a few curls  
where water had fallen on it. "Fine. I'll admit...it was kind of...different."

Laura smiled, and she looked very pretty when it was genuine. He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

She laughed. "Oh, my goodness! Are you serious?"

He shrugged. "I-" she cut him off, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him quite hard. He was pressed back against a lamp post, and he could feel  
everything her body had to offer. He wasn't sure what he thought of it yet, but he didn't push her away.

"Thanks," she said when she pulled away. "See you Friday?"

"Uh, I guess," Julian said awkwardly. How weird to think that he was going to sit beside her, in group therapy, having gotten up close and personal with her...


	6. breathless

**A/N: **Awwwww thanks for the reviews! /blush this story is my crack too lol!

**  


* * *

-6-**

**breathless**

**

* * *

  
**

_Manhattan, New York—the Owl (real name unknown; known to have held the Kingpin title) found dead in his home on Saturday, November 6__th__.  
Police arrived in response to an anonymous call from a phone booth located in New York City. Coroners have determined the cause of death to  
be a severed trachea; however, Owl was also disfigured to the point that there was difficulty identifying his body; the corpse was covered in  
lacerations and burns from what appeared to be a heated coat hanger, and his ears had been removed. Much damage had also been done to  
__his residence; the upper story had…  
_

Julian set down the newspaper, feeling sick. He'd let her kiss him—_touch him_—just a few hours before she would go on to torture a man and then kill him.

He briefly wondered if she had kept the ears, then gagged.

"Anything interesting?" Foley, shuffling into the kitchen. Julian ignored him. The sound of the fridge opening—Josh reached in, pulled out a milk carton, then  
drank directly from it and put it back. Normally Julian would have asked him 'what the hell', but that would have initiated a conversation. He turned the page.

**…**

"The doctor informed me that you seem to be making progress, Julian," Emma said, smiling at him over the desk. She seemed pleased. "He mentioned that you  
express your anger—_verbally,_ instead of physically—and that you seem to be forming a mutual friendship with another member of the group."

Julian looked away, his arms folded. "She's not my friend. I don't like her all that much. They're all lunatics, Ms. Frost."

Emma pursed her lips. "Julian. These are positive developments. Don't make me think otherwise."

"Whatever," Julian said. "Can I go?"

**…**

Friday; this time he found himself waiting in front of the elevator for Laura, glancing impatiently at his watch. Five minutes to go. Three minutes. One. Now she  
was two minutes late…five minutes…ten minutes…

_BAM! _The door opened and Laura entered, pushing back the hood of her bike jacket. She was sopping wet . She spotted him and her eyes widened.

"Were you _waiting_ for me?" she asked. _Squish squish squish _as she walked towards him, dripping. Red. On the floor.

She was in front of him now. Not knowing what he was doing—really—he reached out, and his fingers caught the tab on her jacket zipper. He pulled it down,  
revealing angry looking red, slowly morphing. Like those topographical pictures of hurricanes that weather reporters used as a visual aid on the news.

"Laura," he said, alarmed. She bit her lip. "Just leave it."

"…" he turned away and touched the button on the elevator.

**…**

Inside.

"You might not want to look," Laura warned him, her fresh t-shirt between her knees. She had her back turned to him, and was about to pull her jacket off.

He didn't listen, stared as she peeled the leather off her flesh. He saw—he pressed back into the corner of the elevator. Her shirt was melted into her skin,  
in places, and was wet with blood and body fluids. She made no sound, dropping her jacket on the floor as she worked on peeling off the shirt.

It was even worse under it. Her skin—there was very _little_ skin left. It was a mess of muscles and bones, all messed up and overheated. She raised her arms  
to put the shirt on and finally made a small noise.

"…" he pressed the stop button on the elevator, then stepped forward. "You have to take the bra off. You need medical attention."

"It'll heal," Laura said stubbornly.

He put his hands on her hips and very carefully thought about the hooks, straightening the wires with his mind rather than causing unnecessary motions by  
unhooking them.

"This will hurt," he promised her. She braced her hands on the elevator wall. "Good," she said.

"—!—" Laura's fingers curled as he began to peel it out of the wounds. "I'm sorry," he said. "Turn around."

"I don't want you to see," Laura said in a small voice. "If you see me naked, I want to be hot, not…"

"Deep-fried KFC?" he suggested. "I'm never going to see you naked in a sex way, so don't worry. I need to see what I'm working on."

Hesitantly she complied, and he ran his mind between the fabric and her bloody skin. She grabbed his shoulders when he began to work on the under wires,  
which had completely melted into her flesh.

"Julian—"

He tossed the garment aside and took the shirt from her hands. "We're staying here till your healed. If it doesn't happen in five minutes, you're coming with me. I  
know a healer."

"…" Laura reached for the shirt.

"No. It's not going to heal right if you plaster things on it. What about your legs?"

"My legs are fine," Laura said.

They stood for a while, Julian watching her skin as it fought to knit itself together (and occasionally checking his watch).Three minutes—four minutes—four and a  
half—_slurp_—her skin tone finally began to even out, the burns and lacerations fading to ugly grey patches, then disappearing altogether. He handed her shirt over,  
and Laura pulled it over her head, frowning. "Darn. I wasted $50 of therapy time there. I could have been having the doctor figure out what's wrong with me in the  
time I was just standing around breathing."

"…" Julian pressed the button again.

**…**

"Coming?" Laura called to him, not looking back. He was at the glass outside doors, after another strange group meeting, and she had gone straight to her bike. He'd  
put his hands in his pockets, not sure what to do. His instincts said to go—go home—yet here he was. He was only going to stare at the mansion wall anyway, it could wait.

But he was annoyed that she would just _assume_ things.

"Look here—I don't want you to think last Friday is going to be a _habit_," he said, sneering again. "I'm really not that interested in you. And I have shit to do…I have  
friends, and plans. All that good crap. So why don't you just stop bugging me and mind your own business?"

Laura smoothed back her hair. "Because you don't want me to," she said, her voice confident. "I can read your body language, you know. The tilt of your pelvis tells me  
you haven't had sex for a long time—possibly ever—and your pupil dilation and heart rate—oh, and that nice little aroma coming off you—tells me your body finds me insanely  
attractive, even if you're not willing to admit it to yourself. And the tone of your voice indicates that you're just trying to be difficult. A word to the wise…don't waste your  
time causing problems to the wrong people. It's pretty dumb."

Julian was silent, not knowing what to say. He momentarily considered that Frost was paying the wrong person to analyze him—Laura had hit every nail squarely on the  
head, and he had nothing to say. What _could_ he say?

"Just get on the damn bike," Laura said. "Like you're going to regret it."

**…**

It turned out he _did_ regret it, at first.

"NO! Absolutely not! I am _not_ helping you kill someone!" he hissed, as Laura pulled out tubes from the cargo compartment of her bike, and began piecing them together.  
A sniper rifle of some sort, or at least a weird handgun with an extension tube.

"Relax," Laura said, looking down the telescopic sight. "I didn't ask you to help me. You can stay here with the bike, while I take care of business. Won't take me five.  
We'll go have fun after."

"…" Julian covered his face with his hands. "What is _wrong_ with you?! No! I'm not going _anywhere_ with you!"

"You already _are_ somewhere with me," Laura pointed out, looping the strap of the gun around her neck. "Seriously, I don't see what you're so upset about. You already  
know what I do for a living—you're still hanging around—it's not like you're going to get hurt, or caught, or anything." She looked at Julian briefly with one eye, the other  
still against the sight. "He's a bad, bad man, and I'm going to do what I got paid for."

Julian watched her silently.

"Besides, if it wasn't _me,_ he'd get heart disease eventually," Laura continued. "He's so overweight that I flat-out refused to touch him with my claws. I hate it when I have  
to cut through blubber. He's got three chins—it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack, finding his windpipe. Hence the shotgun."

Julian leaned against the lamp post. Laura handed him her bike's keys. "There. I'm trusting you with my favorite possession. I'm trusting _you,_ now you trust me."

"Laura—"he cleared his throat. "You're so fucking crazy."

"I know," she said dismissively. "I'll be right back." She pumped the shotgun, then turned around and ran across the street—towards the old, run-down building with the  
barred door. Julian folded his arms and watched her pop her claws into the lock, then as she slipped inside.

He peeled some paint off the lamp post, picked up a penny from the ground, and began scraping gum off his shoe when the shots started. A lot of them.

_Bang! Bang bang bang bang!_

Then what sounded like a machine gun. _Buddabuddabudda. _

He raised his eyebrows—now a rail gun had joined the fray. He recognized it—some things were coming back, awful things. _BLAM!_ A huge blast, and there were muffled  
screams from the building. What the hell was she doing in there?

It sounded violent enough to be genocide.

_SLAM! _The metal door burst open, and Laura shot out, looking exhilarated. She was smiling, like she was running away from a water gun fight. "Get on the bike!" she  
shouted, her hair flying. She was covered in blood again.

He remained with his arms folded. "What—"

"No time! GO!"

Julian stared at the building. People were crowding to the windows, armed to the teeth. They looked like S.W.A.T. units—or something equivalent. Now they were  
coming out the door towards them, carrying rail guns.

"Come ON!" She grabbed his wrist and pulled him after her, to the parked vehicle. She leapt on, he copied, and they were off, so fast that Julian's eyes burned from the  
wind rush. He buried his face in her neck.

**…**

Laura finally pulled over, on the side of the highway, of all places. There was only woods as far as the eye could see. She turned off the engine, leaned the bike over  
and flipped the kickstand out.

"What—"

Wordlessly she held up a finger; then turned and disappeared into the trees. Julian watched her go, folding his arms and crinkling his forehead in confusion. _Should just  
go home,_ he thought nervously. _She's insane…I knew that already…but this…this is…_

She reappeared suddenly, straightening her jacket. She was clean now, her hair dripping wet; she was also wearing fresh clothes—a tank top with an extreme V-neck  
that almost reached her belly button, and a miniskirt. She made her way back to the bike, and now he could see that her boots reached up to her knees and were  
covered in buckles.

He was confused—he wasn't even sure _what_ to be confused about anymore. Laura's overwhelming insanity, her pulling over in the middle of no where for this, or his liking  
the outfit, very much, when he hadn't really bothered to look at her that way before.

"Let's go," she said, smiling.

**…**

"IT'S WAY TOO LOUD IN HERE!" Julian yelled, unable to hear even himself over the music and the massive amount of people talking and yelling. He was sitting at a series of  
beat-up old picnic tables with graffiti everywhere, a big pitcher of beer between himself and Laura.

"I KNOW! ISN'T IT GREAT?!" she shouted back. "BY THE WAY, I CAN HEAR YOU JUST FINE!"

He shook his head, not surprised. "HOW—"

Laura tapped her ear. Oh yeah—Wolverine. "SO STOP YELLING!"

"Okay, fine," Julian said, unable to hear himself. He looked around, uneasy; he wasn't used to this kind of place. He'd never been in a cheap, rundown bar that had a  
grunge-slash-mosh pit atmosphere; he'd seen a woman, obviously a mutant, tear the buttons off the coat of another girl with clawed fingers, screaming something at  
the top of her lungs. The bouncers dragged her away.

He noticed they carried tasers.

"ONE OF MY BEST CLIENTS BOUGHT US THIS!" Laura yelled suddenly, just as he was taking another sip. He almost choked. "HE ASKED IF YOU'RE GOING TO BE  
OCCUPYING ME ALL NIGHT!"

Julian closed his eyes. "You make it sound like you're a machine or something."

Laura smiled. "A SLOT MACHINE, MAYBE!" she offered.

"Oh my god."

"SO, ARE YOU?!" Laura leaned forward on her elbows, her chin resting on her crossed fingers. "BETTER MAKE UP YOUR MIND FAST!" The action, combined with her V-neck,  
displayed something right under his nose quite well.

"Absolutely not!" Julian curled his lip in distaste. She reached out and touched it with her black-nailed fingers, rubbing her thumb against the grain of the very light  
shadow he was gaining.

"KAY, BUT I'M GOING TO START BILLING YOU SOON!" Laura commented. "ARE YOU SURE? THERE'S AN ALLEY OUT BACK—I'M AN EXPERT—I'LL LET YOU HAVE A FREE SAMPLE—"

"I'm quite sure," Julian said. "I'm going to go out with a bang, fighting—not because I caught HIV from a hooker in my therapy group!"

Laura raised her eyebrow. "BUT YOU _WOULD_ GO OUT FIGHTING IF YOU HAD HIV!" she pointed out. "WITH A BANG! OR SHOULD I SAY WHILE BANGING…"

"Can we not talk about this here? It seems weird to have a shouted conversation about STD's in public," Julian shuddered. "Thanks."

**...**

"I don't need a ride," Julian said, his ears still ringing. They were standing outside, in the parking lot. "_And_ you drank four pitchers. You shouldn't be directing any  
kind of wheel right now."

Laura shrugged. "I'll be fine," she said. She shifted. "You sure? I…I'd like to see where you live."

"I wouldn't like that," Julian said honestly. "I don't know why I'm here, still. I don't want you being able to track me down."

"…" Laura threw back her head and laughed. "Oh my god! All I have to do is _try_. I can track anyone on earth down. You don't stand a chance if I'm looking for you…I'll _find_  
you! Besides, you already _told_ me where you live."

Julian rubbed his neck. All the little hairs were standing up, and it itched. "Laura—please, don't. I don't know you at all—the next thing I know, it'll be me with a target on  
my back. I think we should just…not go there."

She looked down. "Okay."

He shifted. "I'm going to go now."

"Okay."

Julian hesitated, then moved towards her. At first he thought he was going to kiss her cheek again, but then his fingers tilted her chin up, and he pressed his lips against her  
red ones. It was…different…to be the one initiating the contact...a bit softer. He didn't feel like Laura was attacking him, and he felt a bit more into it.

"…" Laura parted her lips as he began to pull away. Then she smiled, and he smiled back, a little sheepishly, both breathless. "Yeah…so…bye," he said, sweeping  
himself off the ground.

He looked over his shoulder a minute later and saw Laura walking back towards the bar.


	7. paranoir

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews (I think there were some I hadn't responded to yet). This is possibly my fave chapter so far of mOBSCENE, although there's some other  
pretty great ones coming up too. I love this story!~ So many ideas are coming for it.

**Song note: **Ohhh and by the way, **para-noir **is a song by Marilyn Manson. Pretty fitting for this. ("I fuck you for your money, I fuck you to control you" this girl is saying,  
I was like ahahaha that's Laura in this...o.O)

* * *

**-7-**

**para-noir**

**

* * *

  
**

The next Friday, Julian didn't turn up for group therapy, too busy fighting for his life. The Purifiers were attacking the mansion again, and this time  
they'd brought reinforcements. Mutant reinforcements-Sabretooth, Mystique, and a few others that were handing the students their asses on  
silver platters.

**...  
**

Julian ran towards the Danger Room after David, on Nori's orders. She'd pretty much assigned him to baby sitting duty, which irritated him to no end.  
He had to follow the person he hated most at the school around and make sure no harm came to him.

Emma had ordered everyone to head to the Danger Room, as that was the safest place in the school. There was a program installed that would defend the  
students with holographic security forces, if needed; only David was following these orders now. Julian sneered--of course he was, the flatscan.

"Go back!" David shouted, at the door. "I'll be fine! I can work this thing on my own!"

"You sure?" Julian asked, his voice sharp.

"_MOVE!_" David shouted. Too late. Julian looked down at his chest-five _things_ were sticking out between his ribs, in a weird circular formation. He was  
confused--was this a new power? They wiggled, and withdrew...no it wasn't him...he fell to his knees and promptly began bleeding all over the floor in  
a shiny puddle. He choked and rolled over, beginning to feel pain.

_BANG! Snnkt. _Loud scuffles and screams; he saw David pressing himself back against the wall, and shadows dancing across the metal. Whatever had  
gotten _him_ was now being attacked by something far more violent. Voices-he couldn't really hear them very clearly. His eyes started to slide shut.

Someone rolled him over. The figure was fuzzy-it was a girl.

"L-laura?" he asked. She was kneeling over him, frowning.

"You didn't show up for the group," she said. "I was concerned. I followed you home last time, you know."

He exhaled.

"Who is your healer? He said you had one." Laura said to David, tilting her head to look at the other boy. "His wounds are fatal. He will die in under two  
minutes unless he is assisted."

David swallowed. "Elixir--but--who the hell are you?"

"I attend his group therapy sessions," Laura said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Describe this Elixir to me. Does he have any notable scents?"

"N--no. Why? Wait--he does use this cologne--"

"What brand?" Laura pressed.

"Calvin Klein, I think--but--"

"What does he look like?"

David paused. "Well, he has golden skin--"

Laura slid her arms under Julian's knees and his back, then made a small noise and lifted him up like he was a sack of flour. David stared--Julian certainly  
wasn't lightweight. This girl--whoever she was--had to have some sort of physiology thing going on. He wished he still had his powers--then he could  
just _know_ everything he wanted to know about her.

"Go in the room," she said, shifting Julian in her arms. "I'll find Elixir."

David stared at her as she turned abruptly and walked down the hall, back the way they had come.

**...**

Josh was backed into a corner, holding up his hands. He'd just used his death-touch powers again, and he felt awful. But what could he do? _They_ were  
killing _his_ friends-and he'd do anything to stop them. Nori had already been hit, in the shoulder, with a weird bullet that hummed and was hard to get out.

"SCUSE ME! Are you Elixir?" a female voice shouted. Josh turned his head and started-a girl, about his age, was approaching, carrying Hellion, and he was  
_covered_ head to toe in blood. He looked quite pale.

Josh nodded slightly.

"He is broken, and needs to be fixed," the girl said calmly. "I'll take care of the soldiers in the hallway." She set Julian down and turned away, long, metal  
blades sliding out of her knuckles. She was so freaking calm-all the other students were screaming and yelling, and she didn't look like she was breaking a sweat.

"Little...help..." Julian moaned from the floor.

**...  
**

Julian skidded around the corner, followed shortly by Josh. They took in the hallway, which just a minute ago had been filled by Purifiers, armed to the teeth.  
It was still filled with Purifiers, but now they were lying on the floor, with neat pools of blood on their robes.

Laura looked up. She was holding a man by the neck, her claws imbedded deeply in his chest. She retracted them with a _snkkt _sound and pushed him casually  
away; he staggered back, hit the wall, and slid to the floor.

"I tried not to get blood on your carpet," she said sensibly. "I'm aware that it is very expensive to clean Persian rugs such as these. I had one, once. I gave it  
away because it required way too much maintenance."

"..." Julian didn't have a reply.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" Josh burst.

"I attend his group therapy sessions," she said again, as if that explained everything. "I'm Laura. We've been dating a bit. It's nice to meet some of his  
friends--I was starting to wonder if he had any."

Julian shifted. "Uhh--guys--we're kind of in the middle of an _attack_ here--can we focus?"

Laura shrugged. "It doesn't really matter to me. I can take care of everything...but it'll cost you. My rate is one hundred grand per twenty-two minutes; I may  
give you a discount, though. So, you owe me...let's see...one, no, two..." she began counting on her fingers.

"GRR!" Julian darted forward, grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her towards the main hallway. "Come _ON!_" he shouted to Josh, who was still watching  
them with a confused expression.

"Rates?" he called as he jogged after them.

**...  
**

"Get them!" Julian hissed, pushing Laura forwards. They could hear fighting in the library--Emma, Surge and Beast against some of the higher-profile Purifiers--the  
ones with Vibranium weapons. And Mystique, he assumed, hearing Emma shouting something about 'that one'.

Laura locked her knees. "So, what do I get out of this?" she asked.

"...just do it!" he said fiercely. "These are the people that killed my _friends!_"

Laura sneered. "Oh, I get it. When _I'm _killing people I know to be bad, it's a terrible sin...but the moment _you've_ got a problem, you're all for it. You do realize  
what a hypocrite you are, right?"

"I don't care!" Julian said. "Laura, _help us!_"

She considered him. "Alright. But you owe me a favor then."

"Anything!" Julian said. "Just don't hit the people wearing X's and I'll do anything you want!"

Laura turned and walked towards the library, her claws sliding out of her straightened arms.

**...  
**

Emma Frost considered her students, still in diamond form. Mystique had escaped, with mortal wounds, and the Purifiers now lay on the floor, dead.

She was not pleased at this. Rather, according to the Xavier code, she was not pleased. By her own personal standards, she was quite neutral on the subject.

It was the girl, who was standing with her hands behind her back, beside Hellion. She studied her silently. This had to be the girl that Julian had mentioned--she  
fit the profile. Emma was also an expert at reading body language, and even without her telepathy, she could tell that the girl had designs on him.

"You are?" she asked, her diamond hair tinkling.

"Laura," the girl answered, shifting her position. She had combat boots and a leather uniform, with a neckline almost lower than Emma's. She was obviously not overly modest.

"How did you get here?"

"On my bike," Laura replied.

"I see," Emma said. "Mister Keller, please take her upstairs and find her a room for the evening. I need to speak with Cyclops--"

"I'm not staying," Laura broke in. "I came to make sure he was alright. He didn't show up for therapy today. He _always_ comes."

Emma paused. "I do not appreciate interruption. Julian, _take her upstairs._"

"Yes ma'am," Julian said. He turned, and Laura followed him with an irritated expression.

**...  
**

"Why was she so rude to me?" Laura asked him as they climbed the stairs. "I don't understand why you are trying to make me stay. I was doing you a favor."

Julian paused, his hand on the banister. "It's a favor to _me, _not a favor to her. She doesn't think those people should die. Well, she does--but she doesn't stand by  
what she _believes_ in. She's the one making me go to therapy, you know."

"She is somewhat sensible, then," Laura said approvingly. He sighed and continued climbing the stairs.

"I don't understand why she wears white, though. It makes her look fat-and blood is _impossible _to fully remove from that color! Must be why she doesn't like killing.  
It is also extremely visible and therefore useless as camouflage, unless you are in a white-carpeted room such as the office of the deceased Mr. Fisk. Anyone who  
wears white in battle is a complete _idiot._"

"Don't let her hear that you said that," Julian mumbled. He reached the top, then looked back at Laura. "You want to see my room?" he asked. He felt stupid--like he  
was ten years old again, and offering to show her his baseball card collection. Laura nodded, so he led her down the hallways--three down, two to the right,  
third door on the row.

**...  
**

"Hmmm," Laura said, examining the room. "You haven't really put any effort into personalizing it, you know."

"Why would I?" he asked her quietly. "It'll just get ripped up, over and over again. And when I die--I almost did today, you know--they'll just have to take it all down,  
and give it to someone else. Someone _new_ to endanger."

Laura smiled. "So emo. I expected some posters, at least. Or, perhaps, some silver candle bras, a couple satanic collectibles."

"I have a studded belt in my closet that I wore when I was thirteen, once," Julian offered. "Laura--I'm not being melodramatic...I _mean_ what I say. I've been here  
two years and I've lost count of how many times we've all nearly died."

"'Nearly' being the key word," she said. She picked up a small framed picture from his bureau. "Your family?" she asked.

He nodded.

"I wish _I_ had one," she said, studying the smiling faces. "Then I'd have someone to be angry at. I have a lot of issues to work out, or so Dr. Garrison told me."

She put the picture down again, then walked to the bed and flopped down on it, headlong, before Julian could protest. He had an uneasy feeling about letting a  
hooker rub her cells all over his sheets.

"Relax," she said, her eyes closed. "I _told _you--I have a healing factor. I have less germs than you do. I'm more worried about catching something from you  
than the other way around."

"Of course you are," Julian said, sitting down in the chair by his computer. "Laura...what you did down there was scary as hell...but...I wanted to say...uh....  
thanks. I appreciate it, a lot."

Laura hung her head off the edge of the bed and looked at him, upside down.

"You're welcome," she said. "You owe me a favor, though."

Julian felt uneasy. "What kind of favor?"

She smiled. "You'll know when I ask, won't you?" She patted the bed beside herself, indicating that he was to join her.

"Come, my pretty....sit and tell Auntie Laura all about it."

He shuddered at the words but got up, then hovered above her, not sure what she wanted. He had ideas though. "Laura-I don't see you that way," he tried.

"Bullshit."

"Not here-"

"Bullshit," she said again. She reached up and pulled him down, pressing her lips against his, upside down. "I was worried...when you were bleeding all over the floor,"  
she mumbled against him. "You should clean it up...later...it's hazardous...someone might slip in it."

"I'll do it right now-" he tried to get up.

"Later," she repeated, her voice firmer, her arm restraining.

**...  
**

Julian froze at the sound of her claws popping--all of them--including some in her _feet _that he didn't know she had--into the mattress around them--and he  
stared up at Laura with wide eyes. She grinned at him, yanked her fist out of the mattress with a _boing_ noise and pushed aside her disheveled hair.

"Sorry," she said between pants.

"My mattress," Julian said, his voice hollow. He touched the area she had just cut with his fingers; a spring was sticking out.

She shrugged. "You upset?" she asked casually, moving.

"N-no," Julian managed.

A few minutes later, as he was dozing off, he saw Laura begin to finger his belongings. His wallet. He opened his eyes, his arm behind his head, and he stared at  
her, disturbed. Her fingers went to the bills partition, and she looked at him questioningly.

"You've got to be kidding me," he said, his voice still hoarse.

Laura smiled. "Wasn't it worth it?"

He paused. Then..."How much?"

Laura's fingers dipped in, and five twenty-dollar bills were raised. His forehead crinkled. "Wait--didn't _you_ get something out of this, too?" he asked, the corners  
of his mouth turned up. He couldn't help it.

She watched him for a moment, then her eyebrow was raised. A twenty was pushed back down.

"Deal," he said.

**...  
**

_Knock knock._

Laura sat up silently in the bed and looked at the door. A female. She had not scented them before. In a smooth, fluid motion--careful not to disturb Julian,  
who was passed out (he had snored quite loudly until she'd raised his arms above his head)--and picked up his shirt from the floor. She pulled it on, then  
made her way to the door and opened it.

"Hello," she said. There was a girl there with silver skin, and bright red hair.

"What--who are _you_? Where's Julian?" the girl asked, her eyes widening.

"His friend," Laura said calmly. "He's incapacitated, in the bed. Should I wake him up?"

The girl stared. "Ohmigod--you-and he--"

"None of your business, is it?" Laura asked coolly.

"It sure is! He's my friend too!" the girl protested.

"Interesting. I'm pleased to meet you, then." Laura held out her hand. "I'm Laura. I met him at Dr. Garrison's group therapy sessions. He sits beside me,  
and we trade stories. Mine are usually more entertaining." She paused. "All right, if you're his friend...we had a business transaction."

"..." the girl didn't take her hand.

"L-laura?" Julian sat up in bed, one hand to his head. He yawned. Then he saw that Laura was wearing his _shirt,_ and _talking to Cessily._ "LAURA! Oh my  
god!" He slammed the door shut with his mind, then jumped out of bed, holding the blanket around his waist. "Are you _crazy? _You don't go answering  
a stranger's door for them!" He seemed upset.

"I'm sorry," Laura said. "I didn't realize you wanted to hide me."

"You're a _hooker!_ Of course I want to hide you!" Julian snapped, shaking his finger. Little green threads of power surrounded the digit, he was so angry.

"Well, now that you _clarified_ it for her, I'm sure she knows," Laura said. "She was standing at the door up to three seconds after you said that. She  
just stomped off. She sounds really angry--you might want to talk to her after you put some clothes on. I mean--"

Julian glared at her. "This was such a mistake. I didn't even _want_ to do it."

"Don't lie...it smells ugly on you," Laura said, her hands behind her back. "Angry as you are, you still _want _it." She moved to his bed and sat down again,  
studying him openly. "You know, you should really get some ink."

"What?" Julian shook his head. "No! Don't try to distract me! I'm angry with you. I want you to get dressed right now and leave." He closed his eyes for  
a moment; when he opened them again, Laura was fishing in his wallet again.

"You've still got eighty dollars," Laura pointed out.

He watched her for about a minute. At first he was angry. Then, something new that he was weak to.

"I wasn't talking to Cessily anyway," Julian said.

**...  
**

"Laura," Emma said. She leaned back in her chair, viewing the girl across the table from her with a critical expression, her legs crossed elegantly.

Laura was sitting in the chair across from her, her hands in her lap, her back ramrod straight. Julian stood behind her, his arms folded. He was  
wearing an outfit Laura had never seen him wear before-some sort of black-and-red thing with a big brown belt. She had commented,  
approvingly, that the colors hid blood well, which seemed to be her standards for choosing clothing.

"You are entirely too violent to be allowed near the children of this mansion." Emma said. "I would like for you to discontinue your association  
with Hellion, whatever it may be."

"I'm his--"

"--girlfriend," Julian broke in, before Laura could say the magic word that would turn his world upside down and leave him confined to his room for  
life. "Miss Frost...with all due respect, _you_ made me go to that group...deal with it. I found someone I identified with."

Emma tapped her fingernails on the tabletop.

"I don't think you should be at this school," Emma said.

"And I don't _want_ to be," Laura replied evenly. "Thank you for your hospitality...I had a most excellent night--all my needs were attended to--but  
I have my own place, my own job, and I must return to it now."

Emma pursed her lips. "I don't know how _safe_ it is, either, to let a hazard such as you wander the streets without guidance."

"You cannot keep me here," Laura said.

"No. But I would like to know how to reach you," Emma said. "And be warned that the X-men _will _come for you, should you cross the line."

"Alright," Laura said.

**...  
**

Julian looked out the window as Laura took off on her bike, not understanding _what_ was going on. His wallet was empty--he was quite sure Frost  
hadn't meant a hooker when she had said she wanted to treat him to something nice. And his lips were still tingling--from an _hour_ ago. And he'd  
just survived another attack--and he'd seen, actually _seen_ her kill--and been grateful--and--he just didn't understand what was happening to him.

He flopped down on his bed and stared at the ceiling.


	8. businesswoman

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews! As noted, this story involves AU (Alternate Universe) Laura and 616 (regular Marvel universe) Julian. I do have a selection of 616 Laura stories as well--  
Helix volumes 0 and 1, and my story _Snff_. All versions of Laura I write have the same base personality, but many are different in mannerisms (to make each story different to read).

**NOTE: **I have been receiving inquiries on whether I'm going to finish Cowpie II. Of course I am. How could you think I'd give up that story? It's like crack. I'm disappointed in y'all.  
(Kidding =P). The reason I haven't posted it...really busy right now...I have 2 finals coming up, 2 courses I have to deal with that are not done, a knitting project (gift for bf),  
tutoring, and I have to prepare for my trip...I'm going to Iowa to see the guy for 2 weeks yaaay. The only reason I've been still posting chapters lately is they were written  
pre-busy season. Cowpie II does not have more chapters to post, but I will get back to it once I return from my trip and I start my new courses (there's usually a nice dead  
period for about a month when the new ones start X-D)

**ALSO NOTE: **This is the chapter where I've used a passage from a book called _The Blind Assassin _by Margaret Atwood. Great book! Her character is also named recommend  
reading that thing...also, Laura's cell phone rant is based on my real experience with phones. Bah!

* * *

**-8-**

**businesswoman**

**

* * *

**

Julian was distracted. Very, very distracted. Dr. McCoy was teaching the class about the human reproductive system, and he was reminded that _he'd _gotten  
a taste, just a while ago. It had definitely awoken something in him that would no longer stay quiet-something he'd been repressing for a while. Although now  
he couldn't imagine what the hell for. It was great. He was acutely aware of every female in radius now, but even stronger than this was an urge to see Laura  
again. He didn't know how to reach her, though-nor did he have money, although that was a secondary concern. He couldn't imagine her turning him down--it  
was beyond him.

Friday finally came, and he showed up early-yes, _early_-for therapy. He finally admitted to himself that he wasn't all that eager to see Dr. Garrison when he spent  
ten minutes by the elevator, waiting. No, this was all about...

_Laura._ There she was-across the street, pulling her helmet off. Shaking her long, black hair back in place. He shifted, suddenly quite uncomfortable--but in a  
different way than just awkward. She had her usual leather jacket on--he breathed when she leaned over to put it in the bike trunk, and saw down her shirt,  
which had another one of those V-necks. It was green.

_DING! _At first he thought the sound effect had come from himself, but then he sheepishly realized he'd been leaning on the button for the elevator, and the doors  
had opened. They closed again without him stepping in.

She was walking towards the door now, looked sideways down the street. She reached for the handle. He shifted again, completely alert to her every move.

The door opened, and now she looked ahead. Her eyes widened for a second, then she smiled at him slowly, her boots clicking on the floor now. They were  
different--with heels. _Oh, damn, _he thought, swallowing.

"Hi," she said, halfway across the floor.

"Hi," he answered hoarsely.

She tilted her head. "I'm glad to see you decided to come back to the group," she said. "I worried you'd make a habit of not showing."

Julian regained some of his senses. "...we were under attack!" he protested.

"That's no excuse," Laura said, but she smiled.

So red, her smile. The senses left. She raised her eyebrows, then leaned in-_oh please_-and pushed the button to the elevator. Oh. Her hair was right under his  
nose--he inhaled, unable to help himself. It was scented like...

"Fennel," Laura said, having heard the _snff. _"I like _au natural. _Regular perfumes are too harsh on my nose." She pulled away and studied him. "How have you  
been, this week?"

"Horny," Julian said honestly. He turned red-he hadn't meant to say that. She touched his cheek. "How cute," she said. It sounded patronizing.

Julian hadn't been thinking of the word _cute._ The elevator opened and he followed her in, now wondering how he could initiate contact himself. He was aware of the  
thirty-five dollars burning a hole in his pocket.

**...  
**

Sitting in the group was hard-literally. Julian crossed his legs, his peripheral vision full of _her_ profile. She was eating a slice of pizza, pulling her lips far apart for  
each bite, and occasionally sucking strings of cheese in.

"Julian?"

Julian folded his arms. He was distracted, but not incapacitated enough to be nice to Dr. Garrison. "Let's see...last week some terrorists showed up at my school  
again and tried to murder everyone again. Purifiers. I got to relive all the bad shit, and I nearly died myself. Got stabbed in the stomach a bit, only fatal."

"I was there," Laura offered, swallowing her mouthful. "It was quite violent. He hired me to defend them. I only made eighty dollars."

Dr. Garrison stared at them for a moment, then made a note on his clipboard.

" Alright," he said. "How do you feel?"

"Cheated," Laura said. "The Xavier Institute is run by a billionaire, and has two other extremely wealthy staff on faculty. I'm sure they could have afforded more  
than _that_ paltry sum. Oh, I guess it was a bit insulting, too."

" Hrumpf," Julian curled his lip at her. " _I _think you should have done it for free."

"Oh really?" Laura folded _her_ arms. "I can't do that. Next thing you know, you'll be asking for freebies here, there, and everywhere. Word will get around--then where  
will I be? A homeless hooker, that's what!"

"..." Julian wondered if she realized most _were _homeless.

" Alright, I think we should give the others a chance to speak," Dr. Garrison said reasonably. " Laura, Julian, we will continue in our private sessions."

**...  
**

" What the hell was that? Were you _serious?_" Julian stomped after her in the hallway. She was walking fast, towards the elevator, her hands in her hair.  
Tying it back. She reached behind the palm tree again and fetched her bag as she pressed the button for the elevator.

" Yes," she said. She stepped in as the doors opened; he followed.

" Please hold this." she handed him her bag, having removed something from it. A silk dress, a green Kimono with delicate embroidery. She dropped her jacket  
on the floor and started pulling off her shirt.

" Laura--"

She pulled on the Kimono and dropped the lower half of her clothing. "I have an appointment. I am a Geisha tonight, for an important social event. I am selling  
my virginity at auction to the highest bidder."

Julian stared at her, then snorted. "Aren't they going to be a little disappointed? You said to me yourself--you're a slot machine."

"The beauty of a healing factor," Laura said, smiling. "I have done it several times before...it's a good way to make quick money. All I need to do is paint my  
face the right way, and put a clear stitch in the corner of my eyelids."

"..." Julian shook his head.

" I have to make up for the money I lost on you _somehow,_" Laura said sensibly, stuffing her clothes into the bag. The elevator was at the ground floor--so fast.  
Julian opened his mouth--she swept out, the bag on her shoulder again. " See you next Friday!" she called. The door swung shut behind her, and she ran across  
the street, then hopped on her bike.

**...**

He was on Monday, and he wasn't sure if it was getting worse or better, regarding his thirst, but he certainly _was_ looking forwards to Friday, a lot more than he  
wanted to. He promised himself that this time, instead of standing around with his mouth open like a fish, he would act on his impulses. Grab her. Do what he  
wanted. What _she_ wanted, too. An idea struck him-make her miss Friday's session altogether.**  
**

The only thing really distracting him at the moment was his danger room sessions, with the other New X-men. He'd given up on class--there were more interesting  
things to think about with the rest of his life-and his friends he'd successfully chased away. Team practice was good-he could be violent, and he could interact  
with people without them _meaning_ anything.

He knew he wasn't getting better-at the health thing-he was just getting worse. Losing touch more and more, and now he didn't care at all. He knew it was bad  
because other people, like Frost, thought it was bad.

Personally, he wished he'd have been numb earlier.

He'd thought about Laura's comment-about having no posters-and something had caught his eye, that Friday, when he didn't want to go home but had nothing to do.

It was a poster that said "Magneto Was Right".

**...**

_Creek._ Tuesday, 15:00. Julian peered into the office and saw Dr. Garrison working on some papers. The man looked up and smiled.

"Julian! How's your day been?"

He didn't answer, watched his therapist for a while. He found it interesting that he _could_ unnerve Dr. Garrison so easily-he wondered if the man really had any therapist  
training-or if it was just his mutant power. Julian had heard things-he'd researched Dr. Garrison since assuming him to be a flatscan--and some websites had suggested  
that the award-winning TV therapist was a mutant with some sort of weird pheromone controlling ability-like Laurie Collins had had. Before the shot that ripped her head  
open and completely destroyed two more of his friends--Josh had never fully recovered.

"Please come in," Dr. Garrison said, gesturing to the seat. "I want to get to know you better. We've just been talking about what's _wrong _with you...we've never talked  
about what's _right_ with you." Dr. Garrison rubbed his chin. "I'm sure there's a lot right with you...you're a very intelligent young man. You have a strong character...you  
also have a good sense of humor. What kind of things do you like? Your hobbies?"

"Hookers and blow," Julian said, half-honestly. He closed the door behind himself, then grinned at the doctor evilly.

Dr. Garrison paused.

"Julian...it's good to see you smile, but..."

"But?"

"I know what you're thinking-"

"Do you, now," Julian scuffed the carpet with his shoe. His boot, actually. He hadn't bothered changing out of his uniform-he was thinking about giving up human clothes  
entirely. He felt better in gear with Kevlar lining. "What am I thinking, then? Enlighten me."

"I'm thinking you're giving up."

"Yeah, that's pretty close," Julian said. He walked to the window. "I'm tired of being an egg at the school, waiting for someone to step on me. I want to hatch."

Dr. Garrison watched him.

"Are you thinking-"

"That Magneto was right? Yeah, kinda." Julian looked at the doctor. "So is it true, all the rumors? Are _you_ one of us?"

"Julian-we're here to talk about _you_-not about-"

"I'm sick of talking about myself!" Julian snapped, his fingers glowing. "I'm sick of bringing up all the bad shit over and over again until I don't think about  
anything else! Talk, or-"

_Knock knock. _Their heads turned to the door-a familiar face was peering in, Laura. "Oh, hi," she said. "I'm sorry...I need to speak to Dr. Garrison."

"Wait for your own timeslot!" Julian said nastily.

"This won't take a moment, Julian," Dr. Garrison said, holding up his hand. "Would you mind waiting in the hallway?"

Julian rolled his eyes, then brushed past Laura rudely, annoyed. His goal for the afternoon had been to force the information out of the doctor-but it had  
been interrupted, and he doubted that he'd be able to pick up the drama again.

**...**

The door opened again, and Laura slipped out with her usual solemn half-smile, her eyebrows raised slightly in an perpetually amazed lift. Like she was sight  
seeing, or something. She always looked so fucking positive...the opposite of what he expected someone of her profession to be. Rather, profession_s_, in plural.

"You're dressed practically today," she said, observing his clothes. She nodded.

"I guess," he said. "I like the protection it gives me." He eyed Laura-she was dressed in her usual-leather and a messenger back that orbited around her shoulder.

Full of god-knows-what.

"How did your Geisha thing go?" he asked suddenly.

Laura pushed the door closed with a small _click!_

"Oh--it was nice! A very good-looking gentleman bought me, and I had a wonderful dinner cooked by a celebrity chef. He was _really_ experienced, too."

"The chef?"

"No, my 'owner'," she smiled, her white teeth showing. "I rather enjoyed it. I should do it again. He was _so_ wealthy-I made a very easy hundred thousand, and I didn't  
need to touch a speck of blood. Well, real blood, that is. I use blood capsules to make a more dramatic statement."

Julian felt a flicker of real amusement pass through him. He could picture her preparing-so matter-of-factly-for the most bizarre thing he'd heard of in--well, in ever.

She _was_ crazy.

"You got time? This week?" he leaned closer, doing his best to call up the looks he'd given Sofia that made her act funny. Laura's eyes widened. "Oh! Did you get  
money?" she asked. "I hope it wasn't an inheritance, it's never pleasant when family members die."

"Dammit, Laura," he said. She _never_ seemed to get her mind off money.

"I've got thirty-five bucks, and I'll outdo whatever your 'owner' did," he said. "_And_ I'll take you flying. How's that?"

Laura considered.

"Okay," she said. "I have time on Thursday...after seven. I have two assassinations first, and one staged accident for insurance fraud."

"Why the hell do you tell me these things?" Julian asked, his forehead wrinkling. "What if I _told_ someone about you? Where would you be _then?_"

"Laughing...because no one would believe you," Laura said, smiling again, teasingly. She stuck her tongue between her teeth when she smiled. He  
leaned in-she drew away. "Five dollars," she said seriously.

"..." Julian held up his hand. "Can I--uh--can I have your number, or something? I don't know how to reach you."

"Go in the bathroom with the lights off, stare into the mirror and say 'Blood Mary' a few times--and I will appear," Laura said. "I don't give my number out to people.  
Then I get all sorts of spam, and fake kidnappings demanding ransom over family I don't _have_. I had a pay-as-you-go and my twenty dollars just kept disappearing."

"You must be a millionaire!" Julian called after her, annoyed. "What the hell!"

"Waste not, want not," Laura said, turning away. "It's a business-only line. Goodbye, see you Wednesday."

"..." Julian rubbed his face, then opened the door again.


	9. thirty five dollars

**A/N: **Just a little note...haven't abandoned any of my stories. I'm leaving for a 3-week vacation in 4 days, there will probably be no updates during the period. Sorries! Also I'm cramming  
for two finals right now, on top of all the vacation packing. Been updating the helix Vol 2 story because there's alot more written + I want it to chapter 80 by the time I leave.

Enjoy! Happy holidays!

* * *

**-9-**

**thirty five dollars  


* * *

**

Thursday, seven o' clock. Julian sat on the edge of the concrete planter, his feet an inch from the ground, his eyes twitching at every approaching engine,  
every figure that rounded the corner. He'd spent all day waiting; he wasn't sure _why_ this demanded so much of his attention. He'd caught himself, in the  
bathroom, with gel in his hand—in his hair—something he hadn't done for ages, except for every Friday, now. _Oh cripes. _He'd given it one last ruffle,  
stared at his reflection.

"Bloody Mary," he'd said, once. Just to test if she really meant it. Nothing happened, and he tossed his brush on the counter, feeling doubly stupid.

And here he was, in his uniform still. He'd washed it, though—Surge had tried to spark an argument about him hogging the washing machines when _  
she _wanted to do hers; he'd ignored her, adding extra soap to make it take longer.

He twitched—no, not Laura, an old humpbacked lady. He looked beyond her—a girl walking a Chihuahua, on her cell phone. A crack addict screaming  
something about God down the street. A man with sunglasses, getting into his Austin martin.

"Hello, sonny," the old lady was addressing him in a scratchy voice, clasping her purse.

He raised his eyebrow and made a face. "Go away," he said. "Shoo."

"This is what you get for thirty-five dollars," the lady said.

"…" Julian peered closer. "Laura? The _hell?"_

She smiled at him, then spat something in the palm of her hand, a metal object, vaguely like a whistle. "I need to find a bathroom. I need to vomit and  
wash the latex off. I hate, hate, _hate_ jobs I have to dress up _old_ for." Her normal voice.

Julian stood up and followed her into Dr. Garrison's building—and nearly into the bathroom (before he remembered the whole women's/men's room concept),  
curious as a cat.

Laura emerged five minutes later, looking like her usual self—red lips, slanted and lined eyes, perfect hair (now with large curled ringlets). She looked like  
she'd had a make-up team working on her (he considered the idea that she carried one in her bag, which was indeed around her shoulder and hip).

"Hi," she said. He leaned forward—she held out her hand. "I believe we agreed on thirty-five dollars, Mister Keller," she said seriously.

"Wha—how do you know my last name?"

Laura sighed impatiently. "Because Miss Frost called you that. In front of you. I'm surprised that you don't remember."

"I was distracted," he said, digging into his pocket. He smoothed out the crumpled bills, then laid them in her palm. "There you go. Forty. I found five  
in my pants the other day. Glad I decided against that chocolate bar."

"Pfft." Laura wrinkled her nose, then handed the five back. "Save it, for when you really need it," she suggested. "We agreed on thirty-five, and a flight. _  
And_ I believe you promised to 'outdo' a very talented man."

"Of course." He held out his arm, and she linked hers through it, in an old-fashioned manner that he liked; they left the building of their group therapy  
sessions together.

**…**

"Wish I could buy you dinner," Julian said apologetically. They were in the park, under a big tree, half-sitting against the trunk and looking up at  
the dark sky full of stars.

"Hmm," Laura said. "I have some crackers in my bag. And cheese."

Julian snorted. "The ironic thing is—like a year before this—I was an heir to a billion-dollar empire and an estate in Beverly Hills. Course, I fucked it  
up by having the wrong _friends._"

"No, not your friends," Laura said. "You. You fuck things up. You don't know how to think practically."

"Wow, you just ignored the money. I'm impressed."

"No," Laura shook her head against his shoulder. "I knew. I am familiar with your family's company. I was involved in a transaction with a  
Mr. William Keller, once, and I recognized him from your family picture. After I learned of your surname, I looked up the information,  
to be sure. Then I remembered meeting _you_, once before."

"What?" Julian sat up. "Wait—woah, what _kind_ of transaction?!"

Laura wrinkled her nose. "Strictly assassination, _Mister _Keller. I may be a lady of the night, and a trained killer, but I have morals. I would  
never break up a family."

"…" Julian shifted. "I think…I'm not sure, but I think I counted three contradictions in that sentence."

"Pfft." Laura smiled slightly. "Don't you remember? I was in the big meeting room with the fireplace, and you came in, told me you wanted to  
say 'hi'…then sprayed me with a small squirt gun. I was quite upset. I was trying to learn pertinent information for my mission, and you ruined  
my outfit. I had to obtain another one."

"I was nine," Julian said. "That was _you? _Wait—Laura—you were killing when you were _seven?_"

"Mmm." She removed a Ziploc bag from her satchel and parted the seal. It did, indeed, contained crackers and cheese.

"Jesus." Julian looked at the grass and picked a strand. "I'm sorry about your dress. I thought it was, uh, pretty, but I didn't know how to  
tell you I liked it."

"It's quite alright. Most men spray something at me when trying to show their appreciation of my garments—I'm glad the first time was just water."

"Hah." Julian took a cracker and nibbled on it.

"I wonder what time it is." Laura plucked her watch out of the grass, from amongst the rest of their discarded clothing. "Oh my goodness—it's eleven!  
I've made barely above minimum wage!"

"Don't look at the time," Julian said, running his fingers up her arm.

"I have to," Laura said seriously. "I can't work for free."

Julian considered her. "You want to go for that fly now?"

She nodded.

**...**

That was fun!" Laura said as he set her down at the gate of the parking lot. Her cheeks were bright pink; he'd gone especially fast to show off. He was  
all about making an impression—the more impressed she was, the more likely she was to let him have more of her time. She walked through the gate;  
he leaned his elbows on the wire fence and grinned at her.

"So, am I better than Mr. Gentleman?" he asked.

"You're up there," Laura said. "I did enjoy that last bit."

"Before that?" he pressed. He wasn't sure if she was teasing or not—he didn't have a lot of experience, but he'd been told things—and he'd read things—and  
he usually had a knack for doing things right the first time.

He was still a little anxious.

She touched his cheek, smiling, but did not say. He put his hand over hers and closed his eyes—and realized he'd been having a _good_ time. He hadn't thought  
about nasty things tonight.

"Laura—"

"I have to go. It was a good time, thank you." She hesitated, then leaned forward and kissed him again—he pulled her closer, reaching over the fence to feel  
more. His fingers slid down her back and behind, then she caught them and stepped back. "Goodnight," she said, smiling her solemn little half-smile.

"Tomorrow?" he called after her as she walked to her bike. She held up her hand, but did not answer.

**…**

Julian opened the door of his room to see Cessily sitting on his bed, her arms folded. "Where have you been?" she demanded.

"…" he didn't see _how _he could ignore her, when she was right there. "I think a better question is, why did you break into my room?!" he demanded angrily. "I told  
you, I don't want to talk to you guys!"

"It's her, isn't it?" Cessily glowered. "That—that _girl._ You were out with her again—paying her for—_ugh!_ I can't believe you, Julian…what happened to you?!"

Julian paused.

"No, Cess. It's not her. It's _you_, all of you. You just keep believing its going to get better, you sit here, waiting for the next attack. I got told—by the therapist _you_  
demanded I see—that there is nothing more pathetic than a man that won't help himself. What does that say about _you?_"

Cessily stared at him. "Be careful! You sound like—"

Julian pointed at the poster. "Like Magneto? Maybe he was right, Cess. Maybe going down _fighting_ is better, if we have to go down at all."

"Julian—please—" Cessily sounded desperate. "You're smart. We all love you, we know you're not bad—you have a good heart, and you're hurt. It was your best _friend_  
that died—I totally get that—but you stopped talking to me…being afraid of dying doesn't mean you should be afraid of living!"

"I don't want to discuss this anymore," Julian said, his arms folded.

"Did she—did she make you cut your hair?" Cessily asked hesitantly.

"…" He paused. "No."

"It looks better. I like it."

"I did it because she _likes_ it, and she's the most amazing person I've ever met," he said. "That good enough for you?"

"Yes," Cessily said. "Will you—will you introduce me to her? Properly?" She paused. "I don't know what to think—she told me you paid her for—"

"I didn't want to," he mumbled, looking away. "She's entirely motivated by money. Okay, she's crazy, but—still—"

Cessily smiled sadly. "It's okay," she said. "I'm getting used to crazy people."

"Thanks," Julian said. He pulled off his jacket and hung it on the hook beside the doorframe. "You can meet her if you've got thirty-five dollars.  
That's the best rate I've got off her yet. I had to bargain to make her help us during the last attack."

"I've got a gift card to Red Lobster," Cessily said. "For fifty bucks. I got it for my birthday from dad, but I never used it—he forgets I can't eat  
anymore. Would that work, a free dinner?"

"Probably," Julian said. He sighed. "I think I have to get a job."

"You must really like her," Cessily commented.

"Maybe. I dunno. It's something else entirely." He paused. Cessily was still staring at him, and he _knew _what she was thinking.

"Relax. She has a healing factor," he said.


	10. services rendered

**A/N:** Helllooooo I am back! Yes I am! What a tumultuous vacation! I don't know where to begin. Funerals, illness on my part, messed up flights...bleh. But I got  
to see my sweetie 3 and that's what counts. I miss him so bad already and it's barely been a day. Oh well...I'm taking a weekend off to recover from illness  
so I will do some writing! Here's my first update, enjoy!

* * *

**  
-10-**

**services rendered**

* * *

"Julian!"

He turned, quickly; he'd been about to go up without her. There she was…her hair was cut short, and curled in an old 40's style, and she  
was wearing a peacoat, and dangling pearl earrings. She hurried across the floor, her heels clicking. "I'm sorry, I was posing as the wife  
of a wealthy mafia member," she said, reaching up and fiddling with an earring.

He stared. "You cut your hair," he said, reaching out and running his fingers over it.

"Oh, it'll grow back," she said. "By the morning or so, it'll look like nothing ever happened. It's dying it that's annoying—then I have to have  
a buzz-cut for about seven hours." She smiled at him; he leaned forward. She drew back as per usual and held out her hand.

"Grr." He dug in his pocket, then pushed a bill into her hand. The elevator opened and they stepped in. "This better be good."

She pocketed the money, smiled again, then tiptoed and ran her fingers through his hair. He felt the ring brush his ear and he shuddered;  
Laura noted this, leaning forwards and running her teeth over the rim.

"I'll have a red ear if you do that," he said, jerking away. In truth, it was too much—when he knew that Laura would refuse to miss her  
therapy session. He settled instead for her mouth. She let him do as he pleased, her arms now wrapped around his neck.

Laura let out a little sigh as he sucked on her lower lip, tasting the lipstick. It had a cherry flavor to it—he pulled her closer, his hand inside  
her coat, discovering that she was wearing a skirt.

_DING! _

The door opened.

Julian sighed, too, as Laura whisked out.

**…**

"Lorne?"

The green mutant sighed and rubbed his index finger across the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what to say. It's the same thing, again and  
again—today I was buying groceries, and the little girl beside me sang happy birthday to her mom. I saw that she would die in three days  
from now…she's going to ride her tricycle in front of a car."

Silence. Except for the sounds of chewing, this time including Sylvia. She was eating avocado with her bare fingers.

"I see," Dr. Garrison said. "Has it ever occurred to you, Lorne…to _warn_ these victims of what you've seen?"

Lorne laughed bitterly. "Like someone would believe _me._ Maybe if _you_ told them...or Julian here…or even _Laura_—me? Hell no. I'm too green.  
And, you know, the horns."

Laura reached over and patted his shoulder. "It's okay, Lorne," she said. "I think you're very pretty. Green is my favorite color."

Julian looked away.

"Thanks," Lorne said, looking sour.

"Sylvia?" Dr. Garrison turned to her. "What did _you_ do today?"

"Daddy called—and told me—soon." She shut her mouth with a snap.

"Good," Dr. Garrison said, making a note on his clipboard. "Julian?"

"Are you a mutant?" Julian asked directly.

Everyone stared at him.

"It's a simple yes-or-no question," he pointed out. "Just say it. 'Yes', or 'no'."

Dr. Garrison ignored him. "Laura?"

"I had a rather interesting employ tonight," she said. "I pretended I was the wife of a famous mafia figure. He paid me quite a handsome sum…and I  
received an excellent dinner. Then I snuck out back and dealt with the target. Very clean—a small sniper rifle—he barely felt a thing, I'm sure."

Julian tried not to listen, as he usually did when Laura talked about the horrific details of her job.

For group therapy, there was a lot of ignoring going on.

**…**

"I want to go somewhere with you tonight," Laura said, smiling at him lightly. "Do you have money?"

Julian frowned. "Only thirty-five bucks again. Not much gonna happen on that."

"No, no it won't," Laura frowned, then she brightened, holding up a finger. "I know! There's something you can do for me—a little thing I could  
use help with. It would be quite easy for you—and I'd reward you nicely."

They were sitting on the edge of the gigantic concrete planter again, Laura looking prim and proper as she dangled her legs off the edge. Her  
shiny red pumps were neatly paired below, and her stockinged feet hunt in the air, two inches above the ground. Her toenails were painted  
black, Julian noted.

"You mean—I can pay back the 'favor' to you?" he asked sharply. He didn't like where this conversation was going.

Laura smiled. "No—no. I want to keep my favor. This…this would be an extra little something for me…in return for which I would do an extra  
little something for _you,_ Mister Keller."

"Oh really."

"Mhmm." Laura smiled. "Maybe I'll give you your _own_ little night with my celebrated Geisha abilities. I have done it twelve times, and never  
had a bad comment yet. It would be well worth your time."

"Laura—" he put his hand on hers. "I don't _need _you to do anything. I like you the way you are." He reached out suddenly and pulled down  
the collar of her coat, which she'd kept on all night—just as he'd suspected, she was one giant bruise from the neck down.

"Who did this to you?" he asked.

Laura looked away.

"You want my help with them, don't you?" He felt—well, he didn't know what he felt. Angry, that someone was hurting something  
pretty—indifferent, because this something pretty _killed_ people. He finally picked the first.

"Laura."

"Yes." She looked at him again, her expression showing a hint of annoyance. Not towards him—he felt—but towards the person he was talking  
about. "The less you know about it, the better. Be it sufficient to say that I cannot destroy this person. They have invulnerable skin that my  
claws do not penetrate." She paused. "Julian, you understand what I am asking you to do?"

Julian folded his arms. "You're asking me to kill them for you," he said.

"Yes." Laura paused. "They are bad—the very worst of the bad. Child beaters—I saw them break the neck of a five year old child, over and  
over. Because they could. They deserve to die."

Julian breathed out. "I don't know, Laura! I don't think I could do it!"

"What if I said…this person had involvement with the Purifiers?" Laura watched him carefully, her green eyes shining.

"…" Julian looked down. "I would fucking kill them, yes."

"Good," Laura said. "What do you want from me, in return?"

"Laura—I don't want _anything_ from you. All I want is to hang around you more—not even, you know, doing _that_…I guess…I…I want you to  
be my girlfriend." He rubbed his neck. "I know how weird this is...I mean, we were just talking about—about killing someone, my god…"

Laura smiled solemnly. "Julian—I'm flattered—but I can't. I'm not good enough for you. I'm too dangerous, too."

"I bet you're not willing to commit yourself to one guy, either," he said.

"No," Laura admitted.

He shrugged. "Just going to have to convince you, then." He paused. "Fine. You come out to dinner with me and my friend, Cessily. Red  
Lobster. And—and you don't charge me anymore. Okay?"

Laura wrinkled her nose. "That's against my nature. I can handle the dinner—but—no, I can't _not _charge you for services rendered."

"It didn't seem one sided," Julian pointed out. "I don't have a lot of experience…but I took your claws popping out as a good sign."

Laura smiled slightly, as if she was amused.

"I could have been faking it," she reminded him.

"Were you?" He considered her.

Laura considered _him_. "No," she said, her eyebrows raised. Her smile grew.

"Why are you charging me then? If you enjoy it too?"

"I…" Laura pursed her lips. "When you have done something your whole life a certain way, it is very difficult to change the behavior  
to suit someone else. It would also be unfair to my other clients."

"I wouldn't tell them," he pointed out, his skin crawling. He hated admitting there _were_ other men that touched her.

"No."

"I can't believe we're even having this conversation," Julian said, folding his arms again and looking away, miffed.

"Neither can I." Laura examined her nails coolly.

He thought for a second. "Okay. How about this—you come for dinner—and I get to kiss you, whenever I feel like it, for free. That work for you?"

"…" Laura considered. "All right," she said stiffly, running her tongue over her teeth. The stud inside made clicking noises.

"Not now," she said, in an irritated tone (he had leaned forwards). "_You_ need to hold up your end of the bargain first."

"Okay." He rolled up his sleeves. "Show me where to apply the pain, then."

She gave him a wide smile.

**…**

"Oh, my god, Laura," Julian said, his eyes wide. They were on a rooftop, and he'd just set down a pair of binoculars Laura had handed  
him. "You didn't say it was a _woman._ No, no, I can't do this." He swallowed.

"Yes, you can. It's simple. Not even hands on." Laura put her hand on his shoulder, crouched beside him. "_You_ just happen to have a  
thought. You're thinking about air molecules. They just happen to lodge themselves in the space she's occupying, in her left aorta. Or  
the area that her skull is occupying, in the lobes of her brain. So simple—untraceable—they will think its an aneurism. It _is_ an aneurism.  
Explains why she was insane, all these years. You'll be putting her out of her misery."

Julian looked through the binoculars again. The woman was sipping wine, on a patio, across from a blond haired man. _She_ had tanned,  
almost dark skin and long black hair, and a dazzling smile, to go with her evening dress. Why were all the people involved in Laura's  
world so _beautiful?_

"Laura—no. I can't." He made to stand up—Laura pulled him down.

"Yes you can," she said. "Julian—that woman was my _handler._ The child I told you about was me. Over and over again she broke  
my neck—she broke me—she was God to me, a terrible and loveless God. Her and that man there worked with your Purifiers. They  
were _delighted_ to help with the extermination of the remaining mutant children."

Julian frowned at her.

"Do it for me! Do it for your friends!" she said, grasping his arm. "Please. It's in _your_ hands here. I can't touch her—I'll do whatever you want."

"No." Julian turned away. "I don't even know if all the shit you told me about her is _true._ For all I know, you're working me over for  
my help—for a job you're getting paid hundreds of thousands for. No Laura, I won't do it."

"—!—" Laura stared at him. "Are you saying you don't _trust_ me?"

"Maybe."

Silence.

"I'm offended," Laura said. "Have I ever given you reason to mistrust me before?"

"…" Julian shook his head.

"I will prove it to you, if that's what it takes." Laura ran to the edge of the roof before he could stop her, and leapt off. A few  
minutes later she was crawling up the wall of the other building, towards the patio.

Julian watched as she crouched on the railing of the woman's balcony and retracted her claws. The woman's head jerked around  
at the sound—she pounced on the girl, grabbing her around the head and twisting it savagely. Laura fell to the floor, a pile of  
peacoat and curls that drifted vaguely in the breeze; the man was yelling something. He brought the wine bottle down on  
Laura's head violently, even though the girl wasn't moving. _Tinkle. _An explosion of glass and red wine. Laura curled up into  
a ball, offering no defense. To prove to him that these people _were_ the monsters she claimed they were.

The woman twisted Laura's hand, forced it into a fist, and pressed on the inside. She moved so her back was towards Julian, but  
he saw Laura's legs jerk spasmodically. Then he watched the woman reach to the chair behind her, pull out a small hand grenade,  
and rip Laura's head back by her hair, forcing her mouth open.

He'd had enough. He stood up and pointed at the woman, realizing that _he_ was now the God, to her.

He thought about air.


	11. killing is killing

**A/N:** Thanks for the kind reviews!!~

**

* * *

-11-**

**killing is killing**

**

* * *

  
**

"Laura?"

Julian had landed on the patio, and was staring at the girl, still in a fetal position amongst the broken glass, and the body of the woman. He'd  
rolled her over so he didn't have to see her face with the uncanny eyes, fixed in a glassy stare.

He knelt by the girl and ran his fingers through her hair, gently brushing the glass away. He touched his index to her neck, feeling her pulse for  
reassurance.

"I'm okay." She sat up, glass falling from her shoulders. "Or I will be. I'm in s-shock, now. Please…over there…" she pointed with a bloody hand  
at an area under the small round table that still had two glasses of wine on it.

Julian saw two long, metallic blades under it and floated them over, examining them curiously. But he hadn't see Laura pull a weapon…oh. He  
stared at her bloody hands again; the skin was smooth.

"How—" he began, handing the blades to her. Laura popped her other set of claws, jammed them all the way into the knuckled of her other hand,  
then forced the two claws into the resulting holes before they could close. She opened her fingers and the claws were retracted like it had  
never happened.

Julian wanted to pass out at the sight. He sat down in one of the chairs instead.

"I told you." Laura stood up, shook shards from her peacoat, then sat down in the other chair and picked up the glass of wine, sniffing it.

"Hmmm. Not bad." She took a drink. "To a partnership in crime. Killing is killing whether done for duty, profit, or fun." Her words were  
a terrifying quote. She was waiting with her glass in the air.

He picked up the other glass, clinked it against hers, then finished the glass of the dead woman, realizing that, although shaken, he didn't feel  
different. He felt—he felt just like he had when he'd seen the Purifiers dead in the mansion hallway. Indifferent to their suffering—_hoping _they  
had suffered.

"So, did you go with the heart bubble or the aneurism?" Laura asked calmly.

Julian wanted to ask if it mattered, but he shrugged. "Brain," he said. "I don't think she had a heart, anyway."

"Hah! I think you're right." Laura leaned her elbow on the table. "We'd better get rid of the evidence. Just the glass and my blood—and the wine—  
she died of natural causes. Oh, and these wine glasses…they have our DNA all over them." She paused. "I think I'll keep them…they're rather nice."

"You're so weird," Julian mumbled.

"I just know what I want," Laura said, removing a scarf from her coat pocket and wrapping half of it around one glass, then repeating with  
the other, and placing them in her bag carefully. "Look in the apartment and see if you can find a dust pan. I don't want to use a vacuum. Oh!"

Julian swept the glass up into a torrent of air and bunched it together.

**…  
**

"I think that's it," Laura said approvingly. They had gone as far as to open a new bottle of wine and place a new glass out, pressing it to the  
woman's lips to get imprints, then filling the bottom of it with wine, and disposing of a good portion of the bottle down the sink. They'd then  
smashed the glass on the patio, to account for the wine spilled everywhere. It now looked rather like the woman had had more alcohol than  
she could handle, and the stress had set off a nasty tumor in her brain.

Julian nodded, perched on the railing again. Laura hefted her bag carefully, then put her arms around his waist. "Take me home,  
Mister Keller?" she asked.

"You mean to the parking lot?"

"I don't _live_ in the parking lot." Laura smiled at him. "I meant to my home. I'll show you, now that I can trust you."

Julian considered her, then pulled her backwards off the railing. She shrieked before realizing he'd caught them and they were now over  
New York. The city was a mass of tiny lights beneath them. "So where's this 'home' of yours?" he asked, his eyes burning.

"Second to the right and straight on till morning?"

"You missed a word," Julian pointed out savagely.

"Hardly. I saw the play before the Disney version. They added the word 'star'."

He watched her for another second.

"East," Laura said finally. "Towards the docks."

**…  
**

"Back there," Laura said suddenly. Julian had to loop around and backtrack, and was somewhat annoyed. "Could you warn me _ahead_,  
next time? About a minute before we actually get there, please."

"I couldn't see it!"

Julian rolled his eyes, hard to see when they had no pupils. He slowed down and lowered them to the ground, Laura's shoes clicking  
as they made contact with the cement. He looked at the building beside them—a small, two-story building with a high steeple roof,  
very old—he'd be willing to bet it was over a hundred years in age.

"That's you?" he asked, surprised. He'd been expecting a very modern apartment in a richer area of town…not something run-down.

"Yes," Laura said, digging in her bag for her keys.

He followed her to the door, not wanting to remind her that he was there. He was very curious about her home—he was very curious  
about Laura in general. He knew her—yet there was so much he _didn't_ know about her. The door opened, and he followed her up a  
flight of rickety stairs with old, worn carpeting. He was perplexed. The old wallpaper was peeling and the plaster ceiling had mildew  
stains. Some rooms had old wooden ceilings, in square tiles, that had holes all over—various insect infestations.

They climbed another flight through this trudge and misery to the top floor, and Julian was confused. "Is this—do you live here?" he asked finally.

"Don't be stupid," Laura remarked mildly. She walked to the center of the room, reached up to the old, dinky looking chandelier—and  
pulled on it. He jumped back as an enormous panel of the wood tile ceiling lifted down and a step-ladder slid out. She placed her toes  
onto the rungs and tiptoed up, the heels in the air; he stared for a second, then followed her shoes up into the blackness, afraid again.

What was he doing? He was following a crazy assassin into a dark room in a old, derelict building probably full of bodies!

Laura stood, now on the floor, and turned on a light on the wall. His eyes had just reached the top of the ladder, and he almost fell off in surprise.

This attic space was entirely different from the two previous floors. A high roof met in the center over one main room, with glossy wood  
panels well oiled and maintained for both ceiling and floor. Expensive furniture decorated various areas of the room, and he could see  
that the room had a corner each devoted to a function. There was her bed in one corner, a king-sized fluffy structure with silk all over it.  
In the other corner was a small kitchen with marble countertops and new appliances; the third corner was tiled and had glass panels  
around it—presumably the bathroom. The corner closest to them seemed to be an entertainment center, with a couch and a small flat  
screen TV. And there was a tiny office near the kitchen, a table with an antique green lamp and computing accessories—a laptop, a printer.

In the upper middle of the end wall of the room was a circular window, with two smaller (but otherwise identical) windows on either side.

"Holy." He pulled himself over the edge and jumped as the door slid shut behind him. He touched the wall—it was covered in the same  
wallpaper as the floor below, but restored to its original quality. "How the hell did you do this? Not all by yourself?"

Laura shook her head, walking to the kitchen and setting her bag on the table, then removing her pea coat. "No, I hired contractors." She  
hung her coat up on a rack beside the fridge.

"But—weren't you worried they would tell?"

Laura smiled at him patiently. Indulgently. "No. I have contacts. Do you want anything to drink while I make dinner?"

"You don't have to cook," Julian said, glancing at her. He'd been examining the shelves full of music beside her TV system.

"Nonsense. It's not healthy to miss meals. And I enjoy cooking." She pulled out the two wine glasses and put them in the sink.

Julian wanted to shout about how it wasn't healthy to kill people either, but he decided against it and instead moved to her bathroom and  
peered in. The shower was odd—it was positioned in the very corner, and it had an industrial type hose with a stand as its showerhead.  
It also had a tiled floor, depressed slightly so the drain was at the lowest point. The rest of the bathroom was what he'd expected, with  
an elegant toilet and sink. He wrinkled his forehead, then turned back to the main room.

He noticed a 3-D picture hanging above her bed, and moved to investigate. It had an elaborate silver frame, about an inch thick around the  
entire structure, and about three inches deep. On closer investigation, it wasn't just a picture—there was a _real _ test tube, at an angle, in  
front of the picture. The tube was labeled "X-23, Copy of X chromosome" with a bunch of other numbers he didn't understand. Small pink  
felt scrapbook hearts had been pasted all over the corners of the picture behind it, which showed the same test tube, full of fluid, held  
between two rubber-gloved fingers.

"Laura?" he asked.

She leaned over the counter. "Oh! That's a baby picture of me, at one week."

He stared at the picture. He could vaguely see a dot inside the clear-looking fluid. "That's _you?_" he asked, leaning closer. It was still a dot,  
even with his eyelashes brushing the glass.

"Mmm. Please don't touch it."

He jerked backwards.

"I told you, I am a clone. That was before they found a surrogate mother to carry me to term." She was opening a box of flour. "That tube  
and the picture are the only things I have from my childhood, besides a book."

"…" Julian glanced at the framed display. Another example of Laura. From what he knew of cloning, it was a Godless practice that resulted in  
horrible, soulless creations; he had hardly expected to see pictures that declared her clone status so boldly displayed proudly on her  
bedroom wall. With hearts.

Beside it was a framed scene from an old, etched illustration. It depicted a wooden marionette, with an old man, in a boat, and a large fish  
in the background. It was labeled _Il Terribile Pescecane, the terrible dogfish. _

"How did you get them?" he asked.

Laura was cracking eggs now, into a bowl. "I terminated the team that created me, and stole my file," she said calmly. "Dr. Garrison  
recommended that we focus on my childhood; he wanted me to try to treat it normally."

" What's the other picture?"

" It's from Pinocchio," Laura said, beating the eggs with a whisk. "That is the book from my childhood. My mother used to read it to me." She paused.

"There is a picture of her on the other wall, if you wish to see."

Julian turned, and was startled to see an older woman who bore a striking resemblance to Laura. The same black hair, the same  
green eyes, a similar (but not identical) smile.

"Why do you look like her, if you're a clone? I mean—doesn't Wolverine have blue eyes?" Julian asked, suddenly remembering this. He had  
noticed it last week—before the older mutant left the mansion and they'd been attacked—when Mr. Logan had been yelling at him during  
training, that his eyes were blue, ice blue, not green like Laura's.

The girl stiffened at the mention of the name, then shrugged. "I am a clone of his X chromosome. Perhaps his mother had green eyes.  
Perhaps it was a more dominant color. Perhaps my mother's DNA became mixed, somehow. Who knows? It doesn't matter…for all  
intents and purposes, she was my mother to me."

"You said, before, that you killed her," Julian reminded her. "The first time I met you."

Laura put down the bowl, her eyes angry. "I do not wish to discuss this. I said that to make you respect me, not because I wished  
to offer details."

"Okay, okay, jeez. I was just wondering." Julian held up a hand and sat down on her bed, then stretched out, his hands behind his head.  
He didn't want to figure out _why_ Laura thought telling him she'd killed her mother would make him respect her.

"Please remove your shoes," Laura called. He started, feeling like an asshole, and pulled his boots off. "Sorry."

"It wasn't intentional," she said indifferently, taking her bowl to the stove.

**…  
**

Laura served crêpes, quite good, with fresh whipped cream and fruit.

"Where you do get the time to go grocery shopping?" he asked out of idle curiosity. "You seem to be pretty busy."

Laura shrugged.

"I often stop by the grocery store after an assignment. Work makes me hungry." She held the utensils properly, severing pieces of  
pancake. Again Julian wondered how she could be related to Mr. Logan in any way, who often used his claws to eat. With the  
exception of that one time that she'd caught a sandwich on her claw, he'd never seen her use them for food.

"Shouldn't you weigh a million pounds by now, then?" Julian pressed. "You do like five jobs a day."

Laura dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. "No, I don't stop after _every_ assignment. And my body has an accelerated metabolism. I  
am quite active, and often a cookie or crackers suffice."

She picked up her plate and took it to the sink. "I'm sorry I don't have a table," she said. "Perhaps I should get one. I don't  
usually have people over."

Julian shrugged, his mouth full. "I don't care," he said when he'd swallowed. "How many people _have _you shown this place to?"

"You're the first," Laura said casually, rinsing her plate. "Would you like to stay the night?"

He blinked. She was always so blunt about everything.

"Yes," he said honestly. He'd been distracted by her living quarters, but subconsciously aware the whole time that she was still wearing a  
one-piece thigh high skirt, form fitting. It was elegant and had a V-neck; he realized she was in front of him again, reaching for his plate.

He handed it to her, his eyes fixed.

"You should probably call your teacher, then," Laura said reasonably. "She must be worried. It's midnight."

Julian wrinkled his nose. "I don't care. Laura…we just killed someone…it seems weird to think about my _teacher_ being worried about me."

"Don't be silly," Laura said. "Call her. It's not polite to leave people in the dark."

Julian considered the irony of the statement coming from Laura, who had him in the dark about half the time he'd known her; but he pulled  
out his cell, irritated. He felt like a ten year old again, asking if he could stay for a sleepover. Laura caused him such a bizarre mix of emotions.

Sure enough, there was a missed call from the institute. He opened it and pressed a speed dial, then held it to his ear, curling his lip at Laura  
as she watched him, smiling solemnly. She moved over, and he suddenly remembered she liked to touch him when he used that expression. __

Shit—Ms. Frost had just picked up, too. He straightened his face quickly.

"Xavier Institute, Emma Frost, headmistress, speaking. May I ask what you think you're doing, Julian? It's twelve fifteen, _well_ past curfew—"

Laura sat down beside him, the sofa squeaking slightly, and put her hands on her knees.

"I—er—" Julian struggled for an explanation.

Laura held out her hand for the phone. He gave it to her, wondering if anything she could say could _really_ get him into more trouble.

"Miss Frost? Hello. This is Laura." She paused. "Yes, it's nice to speak to you too. Listen…Julian was not aware of the time. We went for dinner,  
and saw a late movie. Yes, that one." She was very convincing. "I don't think he should be out anymore…New York can be dangerous at night.  
I have a place he can stay tonight—I will send him over in the morning. Yes. Yes, I understand. Yes…"

Julian covered his face. He really _was_ a ten year old.

"Uh-huh. Uh-huh. No, of course not. Uh-huh."

Laura smiled at him and mouthed something he didn't get.

"Alright, he will see you in the morning. Thank you. Goodnight, Miss Frost." She snapped the phone shut and handed it to him.

"What the hell was that about?" Julian said. "What was she saying?"

"Oh, nothing. Just threatening me if anything happens to you." She got up and moved towards the bathroom, her hands reaching behind her back for  
the zipper of her dress. "She also told me you are a vulnerable young boy, and that I was not to make advances on you." She opened the door, the  
skirt dropping to the floor; he stood up, suddenly not so interested in what Ms. Frost had said.

"It just means you'll have to make advances on _me_," Laura said, picking up the clothing with her finger and dropping it into a hamper beside the glass  
door of the bathroom, then looked over her shoulder. "Do you want a shower, Mister Keller?"

He nodded, behind her now, and his fingers on the zipper under his chin.

**…  
**

Julian lay in her bed later, the dim moon light from the small circular window overhead illuminating Laura's shoulder. She was asleep, her face pressed  
against his chest, and her slowly growing hair splayed across it. She looked…innocent, without her makeup. She had pink lips, a delicate color, that  
matched other parts of her; he enjoyed the difference.

He wasn't thinking about her this particular moment, though; he was running his mind over the fact that he'd used his powers to take a life for the first time.

Just like that. He'd pointed his finger and the woman had toppled over, dead.

He'd tried to feel bad about it, but really, he didn't. He didn't understand _what_ he was missing—he'd just seen Josh go through a period of shock  
over this very action. Did it mean he wasn't a good person? Cessily had said he was. But she didn't know what he'd done. Taken a life by  
pointing his finger.

Julian _did_ notice that he hadn't thought about the bus incident once today. He remembered what Laura had said—the woman and her  
companion had been involved with the death of his friends, too.

Maybe he did feel something about the whole killing thing. Regret that he hadn't gotten her associate, too.

He thought for a while longer.


	12. perception

**

* * *

  
-12-**

**perception**

* * *

"Laura—I don't want to go back."

She stopped, and poked her head out of the bathroom. She'd been reapplying her makeup, so now one eye was emphasized, but the  
other was not. It looked vaguely amusing, but he wasn't in the mood to laugh. He was still in her bed, the sheets tangled around his  
legs and he had bed-hair--it was sticking up in every which direction.

"You have to. I promised Ms. Frost that I would return you."

"I'm not a tool that you borrowed, or something! I want to stay with you."

Laura frowned and shook her head. Her earrings swung. "No. I have a job today. And I _keep_ my promises to people."

"I want to come with you," he said, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them. He didn't intend to stop them anyways. "And help."

"My target is not affiliated with the Purifiers," Laura said sternly.

"I don't care," Julian said. "If you say they're bad, then they're bad. That's enough reason for them to die."

"Julian…" Laura put her hand on her hip. "I work alone. I may ask for you help again in the future…but you should be at your school. They are training you to—"

"To die!" Julian sat up and curled his lip at her. "Laura—I realized—what's wrong with me—it _isn't_ me. It's that _place._ It's like living in a haunted  
house! I see all the people we lost around every corner—I see the soldiers, over and over again, and the Purifiers, and the people looking to  
tear my insides out—I can't stay there anymore, regardless. I want _you_ to train me—to do what you do. Which is actually useful."

Laura paused, but ignored the expression. "You wish to be an assassin, for hire."

"Yeah, whatever you call it. I'll follow you around and make bad people die for you. I'm not interested in money, either. If I can stay with you—and just do  
what we did last night—that's all I want. You can have everything else."

Laura sighed and tilted her head. "I will have to think it over. This is not an easy choice for me—it would drastically change my lifestyle—my safety—everything."

He made a face, but pulled the blankets away from himself and reached for his clothing.

**…  
**

Being at the mansion again was hell after a pleasant vacation (ironically, considering what he'd done). He felt almost claustrophobic—  
every sound made him twitch. He glanced too often at the windows. He jumped when people spoke to him.

**…  
**

Monday.

"Kid."

Wolverine was speaking to him, in defense class. Julian had been knocked to his behind, not anticipating the attack. It was a little hard to  
concentrate when his mind was buzzing like a hornet nest—_and_ he was fighting the man whose female clone he was quite involved with.

"That was the shittiest block I've ever seen in my life," the X-man grunted, sneering down at him. On the floor. Surge was laughing at him,  
on the side; Cessily and Santo were looking at each other, not sure whether they should be amused or worried.

Julian gazed up at Wolverine and said nothing, then picked himself off the floor. He found himself constantly subconsciously checking for  
similarities between the X-man and his clone, which creeped him out. It made for awkward interactions. He'd never let on to anyone else  
at the institute that he knew where Wolverine's clone was—he _knew_ that Mr. Logan was desperately collecting his family members (he  
had an adopted daughter, and a son, Daken, that he was constantly out trying to track down); he didn't want to get Laura involved. Her  
life—although it must have been difficult at the start—seemed quite well balanced to Julian. This contradicted his initial impressions; when  
he'd first considered Laura, he'd labeled her insane—but now he felt like it was his friends, his teachers, who were insane.

And he was envying her lifestyle.

He stepped to the side so the next person could take their turn.

**…  
**

"JULIAN!" Cessily ran after him in the hall. "Did you ask her?"

"Oh—yeah," he said. He'd forgotten that Laura had arranged the dinner with Cessily and himself for after therapy. "She said you should  
come with me this Friday, she has time after group."

"Okay," Cessily said, looking happy. "Hey—what happened back there? You totally blanked out for a sec and then Mr. Logan barely used his  
fingers to push you over."

"I have a lot of stuff on my mind," Julian said. "And it wasn't his fingers, it was the side of his foot. There's a difference."

"Uh-huh," Cessily said. "He was moving in slow motion, just about. You were like a bowling pin."

"Shut up," Julian said, annoyed. "I have to go read a book for English. I'll see you later." He gave her a salute and stomped up the stairs towards  
his room, his bag over his shoulder.

Cessily held her elbows, watching him go. He _was_ getting better—he was talking to her now—but something was different. He looked like he'd  
released the pressure, blown off steam—and she wondered where it had gone. And how violent it had been.

**…  
**

Wednesday.

_Knock knock knock _on his window. Julian glanced over the edge of the book he was reading—a graphic novel, _V for Vendetta_—to see Laura perched  
on his narrow windowsill, smiling at him. She had a black mask on over her eyes.

He put down the book and hurried to his window, pulling it up.

"Laura? What the hell?"

"I've got a job that I'll let you come on," she said, her voice low. "Actually, it's a private enterprise. I tracked down Dr. Harkins, who was present on  
our last excursion—he's holed up in a Purifier nest."

Julian's lip curled at the world _Purifier._ Laura leaned in and ran her finger over it, smiling. "Put it on, then we go," she said, meaning his uniform. He'd  
been wearing sweats today, having felt cold. He didn't feel cold now.

"What's with the mask?" he asked.

Laura shrugged. "I usually conceal my identity when I do jobs that don't require other camouflage," she said casually. "Once, I disguised myself as a  
potted plant to take down a performer onstage."

Julian stared at her. "You can't be serious."

She nodded, smiling. "Hurry! He's there now—I checked." Her tone of voice made it sound like it was a treat she had saved for him. Perhaps it was. He  
pulled his gear to him with his mind and dressed hurriedly. He put his foot on the windowsill, then turned back, pushed some pillows onto the bed and  
covered them with his blanket. He turned off the light, then pulled himself out.

"I can't fly us there," he whispered. "See those sentinels?" He pointed at the enormous robots standing sentry on either side of the institute.

"I figured. We'll take my bike. I parked it on the road leading here…it's a bit of a walk." She popped her claws and sliced neatly into the brick, using them  
to climb down. "Wait—what about—" he shrugged and levitated himself down carefully. It wasn't like the sentinels were _all_ that vigilant.

They snuck across the lawn, concealed by the darkness. Julian thought he understood why Laura only wore dark colors now—he felt conspicuous, running  
around with red on a good deal of his body. Eventually they reached the cover of the trees, and Laura pointed to a dirt path through it. He followed her  
into the woods, an area he'd never really bothered to explore before—he probably should have—he should know all the escape routes to this place.

Laura led him on for what seemed like forever, then took an abrupt turn into what seemed like solid brush.

"You've got to be kidding," Julian said. He couldn't very well clear it with his mind—the Sentinels would notice a big flash of light, if not a motorcycle taking  
off. Laura smiled at him and nimbly entered the field of obstructions.

He sighed and followed, trying not to poke his eyes out. He risked a small shield after he got hit in the face three times by branches Laura had unexpectedly  
released. Finally the woods thinned, and they broke out onto the side of the long, winding road that lead to the driveway of the institute. He could make  
out Laura's bike, an even darker shape in the night, with a slight gleam of metal.

**…  
**

Laura handed him the binoculars, which he took and pressed to his eyes.

Yes, those were Purifiers alright, in a Church. Several were outside, on the porch, and there were more inside, visible through the stained glass windows. He  
recognized their outfits—those stupid robes, like a Ku Klux Klan outfit—with weird, big collars that had metallic circles. He'd never figured out the purpose of the  
circles—he hadn't really wanted to, either.

All he wanted was for these people to die.

Laura smiled at him. "Are those your men?"

"Yes," he said, his voice bitter and loathing. "I'm going to kill them. I'm going to fucking kill them."

"Julian—" Laura touched his shoulder. "To be an assassin is to be impartial. You are the judge, jury and executor, all in one. But it does not work if you allow yourself  
to _feel_. Emotions—whether sympathy or anger towards or at your mark—only cause flawed judgment—and missed targets."

He stared at her.

"If you wish to be any sort of assassin, you need to learn to put your emotions aside. Concentrate on the job. Do not think about what the person may or may  
not have done. That can come later."

"Okay," Julian said, handing back the binoculars. "How are we doing this, Miss Boss-Lady?"

Laura smiled. "We have a large group of people we wish to kill, and we want to remain unlinked to the target. A number of individuals in fair health suddenly experiencing  
simultaneous cardiac arrest would appear highly suspicious, if even possible, for you to do. What do you propose?"

"An accident?" Julian tried to follow her logic. Laura nodded.

"Good. You are starting to understand." She peered at the building. "I do so love old-fashioned churches. The pillars on the front. The convex steeple roofs. The brittle  
floorboards. They are death traps just waiting to happen. I especially love the irony of a bell tower collapsing."

Julian looked at the enormous copper bell housed in a tower on the corner of the far smaller church building, and grinned, suddenly picturing what she had in mind.

It would fall diagonally across the church, crushing everyone inside.

"How unfortunate, the good churchgoers were gathering for an evening prayer, organizing their plans to separate the divine from the swine, when the steel bolts that  
held together the bell tower suddenly gave way. Poor maintenance and subsequently rust was suspected to be the culprit of this accident. Another ironic fact is that it  
may cause a rush of donations to community churches, which have been struggling for years." Laura paused. "Whenever you're ready, Mister Keller."

Julian stared hard at the bell tower and pointed with his finger.

**…  
**

Laura was waiting for him on the planter beside the doors of the therapy building that Friday, a newspaper in her hands and a pleasant smile on her face.

"I saved something for you," she called.

He hurried towards her and took the paper. Skimming over it, it quoted Laura's earlier thoughts to him almost word-for-word, with the small exception of their  
occupations of securing divinity, and adding a statement that the men would be missed. _Not by me,_ he thought with satisfaction. "Was Harkins—"

"He was there," Laura said simply. She took the paper back, rolled it up and pushed it into her bag. "We should make a scrapbook. I bought a kit to make my  
bedroom decoration, and have never figured out what to do with the remaining felt pieces. I even have some velveteen crosses to put on this!"

Julian snorted and followed her into the building. She pressed the elevator button. "Is your friend coming for dinner tonight?" she asked, as if she hadn't just  
been talking about keeping a scrapbook for her victims.

"Yeah. Her name's Cessily. She said she'd meet us on the corner of Main, at five."

"Oh, good," Laura said. _DING! _They stepped into the elevator, and Julian put his hands into his pockets, leaning against the wall. He felt better—quite relaxed  
right now. It had something to do with the fact that fourteen more Purifiers were in the ground, to balance the loss of forty-two of his friends. He still had a bit  
to go, but he figured it was better than doing nothing. Did it mean that many more of his friends would stay alive?

**…  
**

In the group room. There were sandwiches again, and he loaded up his plate, noting that there were now plastic guards over the cookies. He couldn't blame  
Dr. Garrison—Sylvia had issues. He doubted she washed her hands that often; she'd come to therapy once holding a live mouse. She'd held it for the whole  
session and stared straight ahead, not blinking once, not speaking—then she had left, abruptly, exactly in the middle of one of Dr. Garrison's questions to her.

He sat down and observed the other group members; other than Laura, he hadn't really bothered to think about them outside of therapy. There was Lorne—who  
probably _did_ have the powers he complained about constantly—possibly causing mental confusion and hence the introductory story—there was Sylvia, who might  
not even be a mutant, and of which there was a 99.9 percent probability that she was _not_ Magneto's daughter.

There was also Catfish, a mutant to which he hadn't paid much attention, because he didn't speak, except for the occasional _mrreoww _that trailed off into midair.  
He was a shape shifter, which for some reason had, one day, quit shape-shifting during a transition between a cat and a fish. His 'caretaker' had to come and  
wheel him away after every session, a kindly old Swedish lady that apparently was an at-home caretaker.

The only other member of the group was Ernst, a little, wrinkly, old woman—who was about fifteen years old. Julian hadn't heard much about her, and didn't really  
care all that much; she wasn't really crazy, either, just different. Sort of a hippy—and she had suffered some sort of Magneto attack that had given her trauma, too.

She mentioned that she'd once attended Xavier's, the Special Ed class.

"Nice to have us all together again!" Dr. Garrison said, folding his legs and holding up the clipboard. "How has everyone been this week?"

"Depressed," Lorne said sadly. "I read about the little girl in the paper. She _did_ get hit by the car, on her tricycle. I feel awful."

Dr. Garrison cleared his throat.

"And a whole bunch of Christians were crushed to death in a collapsing church accident," Lorne moaned. "What's the point? Really? Even the good, faithful  
people are being punished."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Lorne…it's not like you pushed that bell tower over, or drove the car into the girl," Dr. Garrison soothed.

Julian tried not to look conspicuous. He'd almost laughed out loud at Lorne's description of the Purifiers, but had caught himself. Laura shot him a glance.

"What about you, Sylvia? How has your week been?"

"TOMATOES!" Sylvia barked. Everyone in the group twitched involuntarily; she sounded like a dog sometimes. "I grew a tomato on a plant my neighbor  
gave me. I ate it. Then I was sad, so I stole a tomato off her plant and used scotch tape to attach it."

"Mmhmm," Dr. Garrison said. Julian considered Sylvia and wondered why she hadn't been institutionalized already. Well—no—he wasn't being fair. If  
anyone should be locked away, it was himself and Laura, who were the dangerous ones in the group.

"Catfish?"

Catfish was silent, flicking his tail.

"Ernst?"

"I dreamt about Magneto again. I miss Martha," Ernst said. "I hope she's okay. She didn't realize what she was doing—she couldn't have. She was a _good_ girl."

"Yes, Martha was a good girl," Dr. Garrison said, making a note on his clipboard. "She had to be, for you to have liked her, Ernst. She was only misled. I'm sure  
she is alright…I can't imagine Miss Frost and Mister Summers being too harsh with her."

Julian raised his eyebrow. She was still at the school?

"Julian?"

"No comment," he said dismissively. Dr. Garrison paused, his pen in the air. He hadn't ever asked Julian for his input without receiving a very nasty response.

"Interesting," he mumbled. "Laura?"

"I had an interesting week. I neutralized a mutant experimentation facility, and met a very famous crime lord. You might know him—Wilson Fisk."

Dr. Garrison took too large a swallow of coffee. "Er, how interesting."

Julian stared at her; she smiled mysteriously. She was certainly quite productive.

**…  
**

"JULIAN!" Cessily waved to them, on the street corner just as promised. She was wearing a scarf so only her metallic forehead showed and her eyes; her hair  
was loose, covering most of her face. People were still giving her glances—it was dangerous for her to stand alone on a street. Especially these days.

He hurried over to her, knowing Cessily was quite hard to hurt, but still worried. Laura held out her hand to the girl again, like she had the time she'd met her  
before; this time Cessily took it.

"I'm Laura," she said. "It's nice to meet you."

"Cessily," the other girl said. "It's, uh, nice to meet you too. Sorry…about before…Julian told me some things since. I didn't mean to be rude or  
anything…I was just a little shocked."

"It's okay," Laura said reasonably, as if they weren't talking about her part-time hooker job. "It's hard to change your perception of a person, when you've  
known them for a long time."

Cessily glanced at Julian, her expression uncertain. "So—yeah—I hope you're okay with—"

"Red Lobster, I know," Laura said, smiling pleasantly. "That's quite fine. It's lobster fest right now. I have dined there before."

**…  
**

"So—what do you do?" Cessily asked. "I mean—for fun, what do you like?"

"Lots of things," Laura said. They were inside the restaurant now, in a booth with bench seats, the menus in front of them. "I like old movies, and  
new movies—mostly old ones, I see enough special effects in my own life already—and painting—oh, yes, and scrapbooking."

Julian coughed to hide his small huff of laughter.

"That's nice," Cessily said. "What kind of music do you like?"

"I don't have any particular favorites," Laura said. "Most music is acceptable to me." She didn't add that she owned something from just about every  
artist out there. "What about yourself?"

"Oh—the same," Cessily said. "I really like Foo Fighters though. They're so awesome…I got to go to their concert, just before I turned into a  
blob of liquid mercury." She grinned.

"I have seen several celebrities onstage before," Laura remarked. "Some…areas of my life had me interacting directly with the performers."

Cessily stared at her. Julian knew she was assuming that Laura had done things for them—but even he didn't know if she was talking about sexual  
favors, or assassinations. It could easily be either or. He cleared his throat, thinking this was a bad idea—Cessily obviously couldn't ignore Laura's  
peculiar qualities (he didn't like the former profession either, even though he was aware that he was quite a hypocrite)—but what could he do?

Did that mean he had to ignore the many _good_ facets about Laura because of one—okay, two—bad qualities she had?

Everyone had a habit. Some people smoked, some people drank too much…Laura slept with people and demanded money, for fun. And killed other  
people. Did she kill people she'd slept with? He tried to stop thinking—ignorance of this fact was just best. He hated Cessily for bringing it up again,  
as he'd mostly become used to it (also Laura hadn't mentioned her other clients for a week or so, which helped).

"Do you know what you want?" Julian asked Laura, looking at the menu. Menus were always a great distraction—a good way to avert awkward interactions.

"Um, something with lobster in it?" Cessily asked.

"Ha, ha, funny," he said. "Laura?"

"I would like a plate of Calamari appetizer. Would anyone like to share it with me?"

" Um…" Cessily looked at Julian.

Laura frowned. "I do not have any diseases you need to worry about," she said, misunderstanding Cessily's apprehension.

" Nono—I can't eat," Cessily said. " I'm not human."

" Oh, forgive me," Laura said, as if she hadn't been insulting only _herself_ with her statement. "I should have realized. Your scent lacks organs, blood and  
enzymes, amongst other things. How silly of me to forget."

"You have smell-powers?" Cessily asked.

" Yes," Laura said.

" Oh, cool! We have a teacher like that at our institute—Mr. Logan. He's pretty grumpy—and hairy—but he teaches great combat training," Cessily said.

Laura's expression remained neutral. "How interesting," she said. " What other kinds of things do you learn there?"

"The regular…English, Sciences, Art…History…Math…Socials…Career and Personal Planning…oh yeah and Music, if you want. I'm taking piano but my metal  
fingers make this funny clinking sound on the keys." Cessily wrinkled her nose.

" Are you taking music, Julian?" Laura looked at him expectantly.

" No," he said. "Got enough on my plate, just staying alive."

Silence for a moment.

" Well, that's a cheerful attitude," Laura said. "I like the piano myself…the harp is also rather interesting to play. And the violin. Several jobs I had required musical training."

" Wow," Cessily said. "I didn't realize there was so much to being an…um…"

Laura arched her eyebrows. "A lady of high society?" she asked.

" Mmm." Cessily smiled slightly, still uneasy with the idea.

Julian just hoped the subject of assassinations wouldn't come up.

**…  
**

" That was nice, thank you, Cessily," Laura said as they reached the street corner again. "It was a rather interesting evening. We should do it again sometime."

" Totally," Cessily said. "Take care." She waved at Laura. "Coming, Julian?"

Julian shifted, looking at Laura. He finally waved to her too and turned away—he wanted to wheedle his way into staying with her again, but he didn't want to  
alarm Cessily. He put his hands in his pockets and forced himself to walk away.


	13. bruised

**

* * *

  
-13-**

**bruised  


* * *

**

Monday evening. A tap on his window. Julian looked up from his paper—he was writing an essay on _V for Vendetta_ now—and started. Laura, perched on his  
windowsill again. He glanced to make sure his door was locked, then hurried to the frame and slid up the glass again. She was wearing a belly length  
leather jacket with fur trimmings, and a small, red dress. And red gloves.

He thought she would begin to tell him about a job, but she smiled, and slid one stockinged, booted foot in through the open window, her rear now  
perched on the frame. "Hi," she said. _Clunk_ as her heel touched the wooden floor.

" Hi," he said. She raised her other foot and brought it through the window, then stood and straightened her skirt. "My, it's chilly out there," she said  
conversationally. "I could see my own breath."

"Mmm." He paused, eyeing her outfit. "Well—you're kind of underdressed, you know. You look like—"

"—a hooker?" Laura asked pleasantly.

" Well, yeah," he said awkwardly.

" Mmhmm. Well, I just completed a job that required this guise," she said. She walked over to his wallet, lying on his bedside table. "I was in the area,  
and I thought I'd stop by, to be polite." He watched as she picked it up and opened the bill partition, like it was no big deal.

" What the fuck are you doing?" he asked.

" Hmm," she examined the contents. "Two dollars? Really, I don't know. It would be far too ironic…the saying is a two-dollar whore,  
after all. Do you have more in your pocket?"

"…" Julian raised his eyebrows. "No, I don't. Why don't you drop in uninvited on Friday, and riffle through my possessions then?" he asked sarcastically.

He'd spent the money on a taxi for himself and Cessily (who refused to fly, not wanting to alarm the O.N.E. sentinels).

" Because I'm in the mood _now_," Laura said dismissively. She removed the two dollars and stuffed them in her small handbag. "Can you get at  
least eight dollars more? You can pay me next time."

Julian recognized his opportunity. She _wanted_ it—she'd just admitted it—and although his interest had piqued the moment he'd really taken in her  
skimpy outfit, he could hold off. Maybe she would break.

He folded his arms. "No. Put the money back, I'm not paying."

" Don't be silly," Laura said. "Then you'd owe me ten dollars next time."

" It's not happening, period. I don't have money right now. You want it, you have to do it normally. With neither of us paying."

Laura sat down on the bed. "Interesting. This is where we initiated business the first time. Did you flip the mattress?" She was looking for her claw marks.

"…yes," Julian said. " Laura…my money, please."

She ignored him, pulling off her glove by each finger. Then she pulled down on the hand, and the glove slid off—opera length. She dropped it on  
the floor, and looked at it. "Oops," she said.

Julian sat down again. "Not working," he said. He knew what she was trying to do.

She unbuttoned her jacket and let it slip off her shoulders. He arched his eyebrows—the dress _was_ tiny, even smaller than he'd first thought. Thin, too.

" Exactly what sort of job was this?" he asked.

"A stripper at a high profile club," she said, working on the other glove. It glided smoothly down her arm; she twirled it in the air, then threw it at  
him. It hit him in the face, and he closed his eyes. " Laura…"

She kicked off her shoes, one by one, then stretched out on his bed, her legs arched as she lay on her back. "You really _do_ need artwork in here," she  
said. "No wonder you're so depressed…it's very glum in here. Almost a mood killer." She arched her eyebrow at him. "Almost."

He could see the edge of a garter belt peering out from the hem of her short skirt.

"Too bad you don't want to be civil about this," he said. "I'm going to keep working on my essay. It won't be a very good one—after this—but I  
made my point. I'm not paying." He turned away.

" Mmm. You sure did. Now why don't you figure out how much you need to give me next Friday. After this, of course." _Ziiiip. _The zipper on the back  
of her small, silky red dress going down.

He inhaled through his nose, tried to focus on the paper. It was difficult. _Squeak—_his bed as she stood up. A soft _whumpf—_her dress had just fallen  
around her ankles. There were some slinky noises of what he assumed were her nylons; she leaned over his back and breathed against his  
neck. "I don't think you're thinking clearly," she said. A brush on his back—frilly lace. Julian rubbed his face. He was getting more turned on  
by the second—but, no. He couldn't. She had to learn.

She tilted her head, bit his ear, then ran her tongue through the shell—he could feel the barbell in her tongue.

He almost lost it not there—and not just the battle with his willpower.

" Laura—stop it—"

Laura spun his chair around, and he tried to look up at her face, so he wouldn't be tempted. Then she sat on his lap. "You don't _want_ to say no," she  
whispered. "You're already thinking about where you can get that money from."

"…" Julian made the mistake of letting his eyes slip lower. A balcony bra, black lace, with pink trim. A thong. Now he could see that the garter belt matched  
the ensemble. He picked her up by her sides and carried her to the bed.

**…  
**

"Mmm." Laura was practically purring like a kitten, sprawled against his side, her eyes closed, her lips tilted upwards. "That was fun. See? It was a  
good decision." She ran her fingers over the skin of his wrist, the shoulder of the opposite arm under her head.

"I didn't agree to anything," he pointed out, turning over to face her.

Laura watched him silently, her smile fading. "I told you before. I can't do what you want, Julian. This—this is okay. As long as it's business. But—"

Julian sat up, gritting his teeth. "No, it's not okay! How do you think it makes me feel? I'm being used! By everyone! _Nothing_ is mine, not even my life!  
I'm just waiting for someone to come and collect on it!"

"You don't realize what you want," Laura pointed out. "You don't want what you think. You want to _own_ me, instead of renting me. It's not any better."

Julian stared at her, not knowing what to say.

"Go on, say it then, if you think differently," Laura said. "Say you actually love me—that you want what's best for _me._ That you'd put my life and happiness before your own."

Julian looked away, at his window.

"See? How can you expect me to become your object? I like my life—I own myself. I _rent_ myself out, but in the end I call the terms. And I profit.  
Incidentally, I would not die for you, either, so you needn't feel ashamed."

Laura sat up and picked her underwear off the floor with her foot. "You owe me eight dollars, Mister Keller. I will collect on Friday if that is agreeable with you."

Julian remained silent, staring at the window. She finished dressing, then walked towards it, her heels clicking on the floor. She stuck her leg  
through the open space, turned, blew him a kiss, then disappeared.

He continued to stare, lost in thought.

**…  
**

"FOCUS, Keller!" Colossus shouted as he whipped Julian over his head (holding him by his wrists) and slammed him onto the metal  
danger room floor. "Children! You are doing terribly! No teamwork at all!"

"Ahhh…" Julian raised his head, grimacing at the pain running along his ribs. He felt bruised and broken—he already had a black eye. Admittedly, his  
focus _hadn't_ been great. He'd seen Nori bend over in front of him (and even though he didn't think of her _that way_) he'd zoned out, becoming easy  
pray for his cruel, unrelenting teacher, who liked to physically abuse him.

Another thing to thank Laura for—lack of focus. She was entirely destroying his life—yet she wouldn't help him build a new one. He bit his lip, watching  
Colossus and thinking. What would _she_ do? She'd kill him, of course. But he couldn't kill a teacher. There had to be _some_ way to outsmart a Russian  
farm boy that was all brawn, no brains (as he thought of Colossus).

He couldn't think of anything. Colossus hurled another student through the air—Nori—and she sailed towards him. _Wham!_

Julian was out like a light.

**…  
**

"We have to get a _plan_ together, guys!" Nori said angrily. "This is embarrassing! We can't let him beat us ever again! We're so much better than that…and  
he's making us look like a bunch of losers!"

Julian watched her sullenly with his free eye. The other had an icepack pressed against it. There was also blood trickling down from his nose.

"I think what _you_ need to do is loose some weight, Ashida," Santo said, glancing at Julian. "You nearly killed him with your giant ass. Hey, wait—that's  
what we can do! I'll throw her at Rasputin—"

"Shut up, Santo," Cessily said, making a face.

"Maybe if _someone_ would use their powers," Santo continued, meaning Josh.

"I don't want to use them that way!" Josh protested.

"He's right. He shouldn't. It's not natural for his body," David said, serious as always. "It could really mess him up."

"We're _all_ getting messed up, anyways," Julian said quietly, chucking the icepack away. It was hard to talk—his jaw was swollen. He turned and left, heading  
down the hallway for his room, ignoring Cessily calling after him. He balled his hands into fists. Stupid Foley—he was being such a pussy—refused to even use  
his powers to _heal._ Now he was going to be in pain for the next week, healing the injuries Colossus had caused him. The teacher _had_ apologized, as Nori's  
hitting him had been unintentional—and he hadn't realized Elixir would refuse to use his powers at the time (Emma had consulted him earlier, and had  
thought he'd been convinced to at least treat wounds now).

Still.


	14. broken

**

* * *

  
-14-**

**broken**

* * *

Friday. "Julian!" Laura ran towards him, smiling slightly. "Did you bring my money?"

Julian turned; she stopped and covered her mouth, her eyes wide. He knew the bruises were pretty spectacular—half his face had turned black. He had a lump on his forehead  
too, where Colossus had smashed him in the forehead with the heel of his hand.

"Yeah," he said quietly, digging in his pocket and withdrawing the eight dollars.

"Gonna charge me tax, too?"

Laura hesitated. "No. I don't think it would be wise to alert the Government to my operations. What…what happened to you?"

"None of your business," Julian replied coolly. She held out her hand—he dropped the money in her palm, not touching.

_Crinkle. _She smoothed out the bills, still watching him, concerned.

"Stop pretending you _care!"_ he snapped. "I thought we're all clear on that now! No one gives two shits about each other, right?"

"You are my customer. I don't _wish_ you harm." Laura arched her eyebrows. "How would it benefit me? If you expire, I lose business."

"Not dying. Thanks for the well-wishes, though." He pressed the elevator button.

"Well…that's good." Laura stepped sideways slightly, adjusting her stance. "I may have another…opportunity…for you, on Saturday evening. Do you want me to come by again?"

Julian looked down. "What for? I'm broke. Frost was away."

"I didn't mean for _that_," Laura said. "I meant…your 'training', if you are still interested." She paused. "I could use your assistance—another special target. There will be valuable experience for you…and…"

"Maybe."

_DING! _ The elevator opened and they stepped in.

Julian was silent for the entire way up; Laura, at first, attempted small talk, but eventually stopped, seeing he'd sunken back into a quiet mood, and that he wasn't going to snap out of it. She  
knew she couldn't make him this time, either—she was the cause of it.

**…**

"And…Julian?" Dr. Garrison asked. He'd obviously been waiting for this moment—everyone wanted to know why the mouthiest group member looked like someone had finally  
taught him a lesson about being rude.

"Nothing," Julian said quietly.

"There was obviously something. Was the mansion attacked again?" Dr. Garrison persisted, his voice soothing. More false care.

"I fell down some stairs," Julian said. "Good enough?"

"Did the stairs attack you?" Lorne asked sympathetically.

"_Mrrreowrr," _Catfish.

"What? No!" Julian stood up. "I'm not in the mood for this." He headed for the door and slammed it behind him, leaving the group in silence.

"And what did you do with _your_ day, Laura?" Dr. Garrison asked finally.

"Not much. I delivered a pair of ears I'd severed earlier to the customer that ordered them…and, let's see…" Laura tapped her chin in thought.

**…**

Laura paused, outside, and looked at the planter box they usually sat on. Then walked around the corner of it and stopped, folding her arms.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him.

"Trying to be alone," Julian studied his hands.

"Not very hard. You can fly—you could go to a rooftop—if you didn't want me to find you, you would've done so." Laura shifted—her heel grated on the concrete. "_Julian—_I'm not going to  
let you have your way because you sulk. You're wasting your time, being miserable when it will get you nowhere."

"I'm not sulking." He looked up at her angrily. "Maybe I'm just actually unhappy about my life."

"Then change it." Laura studied him critically. "They aren't holding you prisoner at your school, are they?"

"No. But—I have nowhere to go. I have nothing to do. My life is pointless, Laura…I don't even have friends. They all die and turn on me—and _you're_ not helping. I'm not even good enough for—"

"I thought you understood," Laura said. "I didn't say you weren't 'good enough' for me—it's my lifestyle. You don't even _care_ about me—you said so yourself."

" I didn't." He avoided her gaze. "I do care about you. I don't want to but I do."

" Oh." Laura shifted; he glanced up and saw that she looked uneasy.

" I don't understand it. I mean—everyone I care about just goes away in the end…everyone dies. I don't feel anything anymore—except when, you know."

"Oh," Laura said again. She crouched down and touched his semi-swollen face. "Julian—that's not good. You weren't supposed to form an attachment to me…it was just for business—for fun. Something different."

" I guess that's what you'd think, with the crowd you hang out with," Julian said quietly. "I'm different. I think."

" Yes, you are." Laura smiled. "Come on…let's go for dinner…we can plan tomorrow's conquest out. Perhaps you'll gain some valuable experience and find a career with which to support yourself."

She held her hand out; after a moment he took it and got to his feet.

**…**

At the restaurant, a drink approached their table on a waiter's tray, and was placed in front of Laura. "It's from the gentleman in the corner," the waiter said.

Julian turned his head and examined the man dully. Of course—good-looking—and obviously rich, in a tailored business suit, with sunglasses on top of his head. His shirt alone cost more than Julian's  
present wardrobe (although, in times past, his shoes would have been more expensive than the man's suit). Laura waved her fingertips at the man, smiling.

" Hmm," she murmured once the waiter had left. "A prospective customer. Quite well-to-do. Do you like his garments?"

" No, I _don't_" Julian said stiffly. He stabbed his steak viciously with his fork and a small splatter of juices squirted out. It felt good to stab _something_.

Laura pressed her lips together, took a sip of the drink, then set it down on the table with a small _clink._ "I have to visit the ladies' room. I will be right back."

Julian didn't watch her go, staring at the chunk of meat on his fork. That was what _he_ felt like. A waiter saw his sullen expression, asked if everything was okay; he just grunted 'fine'. Although he was far from.

**…**

"You know better than to approach me here," Laura hissed, her voice different than the usual glossy, honey tones she usually spoke in. She was angry. "You have been _told_ to allow me room to  
operate. Why do you deliberately disobey these orders?"

"You seem so sure of what your orders are," the man answered, good-humouredly. "Didn't you think the boss might like to check up on you once in a while? Make sure you're sticking to the plan and  
not spending too much time with any one target?"

Laura's eyes flashed. "It is _necessary._ I am familiarizing. I must gain trust first. These are dark times…and Frost conducts mental searches of _anyone_ who goes within three hundred feet of her  
school. Do you really think I can just go right in, blocking my thoughts, and have their full cooperation?"

"I think it's more. I might tell the boss that you're taking the long route around because you're a little girl with a crush."

_Snkkt. _Two gleaming claws pointed at the man's throat. "I will kill you if you do that. I should call off this whole contract _now._"

"You wouldn't," the man said easily, grinning, not even bothering to move away from her claws. "The boss is the _only_ one who can give you what you want, Ms. Kinney, and you know  
that. You don't want to anger him."

Laura glared at him for a moment. "You are not the boss, though," she hissed.

The man paused. "Alright, I won't report anything out of the ordinary. But, Laura…you _owe_ me. And you know what you owe me, don't you?" A finger caught her chin, a lewd smile from  
someone who knew what he would receive.

"I owe you _nothing,_" Laura said, pulling her head away sharply. "I am not your property. Never forget that."

A chuckle from the man, but Laura was already walking away, towards the door of the restaurant. The back door. She exited from the same hallway as the washrooms and headed towards  
her table, fixing a smile on her face.

**…**

Laura lay with her eyes half-open, on her back, in the dark, with a slightly strained expression, as if she was deep in thought and thought the ceiling might hold some answers for her.

It didn't.

_Rustle._ "Mmm…Laura?"

"Go back to sleep."

The boy pressed his face against the pillow. This was the evening—3 AM, actually—following his second venture into assassination. The target had been closely linked with the Purifiers—Reverend  
Stryker's personal assistant—Julian, again, had happened to be present when the tire of the car the man occupied suddenly burst ('the dangers of self-mechanics, you really should let professionals  
rotate your tires', said Laura). The vehicle wrapped around a pole, instantly killing its passenger.

Laura had invited him to once more follow her to her loft apartment for a drink, perhaps in the effort of appeasing him. He'd accepted, and one thing had of course led to another. Now Laura was  
staring at the ceiling, wondering if what she'd done was right. Leading him on.

He didn't look led on. She observed him out of the corner of her eye. His eyes, too, were half-closed and unreadable. Perhaps he'd been able to think of it as it was, as it should be—a temporary,  
pleasant sensation. Like a bath, or a chocolate, or even just a good night's rest.

Laura stopped for a moment to wonder why she was concerned about giving him false impressions. That was her business, her livelihood. She sold herself for a million dollars a pound. That brought  
her down to an uncomfortable fact—_why_ was she allowing him to pay her a mere ten dollars for her services?

Was the man of the previous evening right? Was she losing sight of her target, becoming distracted? She had the boy in her palm. Now was the time to act.

She realized he was watching her sleepily, and she rolled onto her side, not wanting to look him in the eye at this particular moment. Especially knowing what she knew now…what he had told  
her. He thought he was so jaded, so experienced…she thought he was full of precious innocence that she hesitated to destroy. Innocence lost could never be regained, she knew.

She knew so well.

**…**

Flying back to the mansion, taking his time and thinking over the events of the last week. Another Purifier in the ground, another dead friend avenged. The mansion loomed in sight, with the  
enormous sentinels around it; he swept low to the ground about a mile away and prepared himself for the walk.

Fucking sentinels. They'd been absolutely _no _help during the attacks. If anything, they made the mansion even more of a death-trap than it already was.


	15. violence

**A/N: **Yay another update! I haven't forgotten this story ;-)

* * *

**-15-**

**violence**

* * *

The next three weeks were slow and agonizing, with another student—Pixie—lost to a Purifier attack (in a public courtyard, shot in the back of the head). Julian remained silent for days  
after, through the subsequent funeral, and skipped therapy. He went on the second Friday and didn't return to the mansion for two nights afterwards, giving Laura a fair amount of money for her time.

**…**

In the Danger Room, _crunch_, as Julian hit the wall and tumbled down in a pile of arms and legs, victim again to Colossus. He got to his knees and glared at his teacher, no longer just thinking of  
what Laura would do…but thinking what _he_ would do when he had the chance.

Emma Frost looked on from the observation booth, arms folded.

_I will see you in my office following this exercise, Mr. Keller. We need to have a long-overdue chat, my dear._

**…**

"NO!" Julian yelled, his face contorted. "I will _not_!"

Emma was seated at her desk, her features hard, firm. Unyielding. "Julian—she is not good for you. You've changed, yes, but not for the better. You are not yourself, still…and I believe she's a bad  
influence on you, especially at such a vulnerable time and place in your life—"

"I'm only vulnerable when I'm in _this_ place, Ms. Frost, waiting to die, with nothing to protect myself—"

"That has nothing to do with Laura," Emma said.

"That has _everything_ to do with Laura," Julian countered angrily. "You have no say in who I can or can't see. You're not my guardian."

Emma's features tightened. "Julian—I did offer—"

"I'd rather run into a Purifiers meeting with a target sign on my back, thanks," he ground out. "You try to rope me in…I'm gone. I won't take this shit anymore."

"Language."

_**BLAMMM!!! **_With a gesture, Julian swept her desk and its contents over; the wooden structure crashed to the ground, and Emma Frost turned to diamond, her eyes glittering. "Out," she said coldly. "Until  
you can control that temper of yours, Mr. Keller, you are confined to your room. So help me God if I see you leave it."

"There _is_ no God, you fucking retard," Julian snapped as he left, slamming the door behind himself.

**…**

Laura stiffened, at the bottom floor of the rickety old building that housed her loft apartment. _He_ was here, and he shouldn't be. She pondered the decision before her quietly, the reaction. Should she go  
up and encourage him to return to the X-men, with intent? That it was unsafe with them? That they should be destroyed?

Should she tell him to stay? That he was safest at the mansion? To respect his teachers and friends?

Or should she just walk away, and come back when he had left?

She finally made up her mind and ascended the several flights of stairs and ladders to her apartment, noting that he hadn't turned on the lights. Steady breathing. Her head cleared the ladder, and her  
luminous eyes took in the sleeping boy sprawled on top of her bed sheets. He was in an awkward angle, with his chin pressed against his uniform-covered chest; he'd obviously fallen asleep waiting for her.

Laura paused, holding the ladder and studying him. Biting her lip. And changing her mind, even though she hated to admit that the man from earlier was right.

"Why are you here?" she asked, loudly enough that he twitched and raised his head, woken from his sleep.

"I left. I'm not going back there, Laura."

She ascended the ladder completely and stood up, drawing the contraption shut behind herself, her features sad. "You have to."

"I don't _have_ to do anything I don't want," he said, annoyed. "If you don't want me here—if you don't feel anything for me—fine, I'll leave _you_ alone. But I don't think that's the case." He sat straight up,  
his eyes burning green in the darkness.

"You are mistaken." Laura's voice was firm. "There is nothing for you here. Return to the school, and be with your friends, and under your guardian's protection, where it is safe for you. Everything I have  
taught you is wrong."

"Not you too!" Julian was angry. "You taught me the only _right_ thing I've learned since I came to Xavier's! They're a bunch of stupid—"

"Do not say that, please." Laura looked down.

"But—"

"There are forces at work here larger than either you or I. Do you understand?" Laura's voice was sharp. "It is not safe for you to be here with me, nor to sever your affiliation with the school."

Julian tilted his head. "Just what aren't you telling me?"

Laura was silent.

He left, angrily.

**…**

"Hellion."

The boy stopped, hovering in the air as he saw the floating figure before him, wearing a long, flowing purple cape, and a shining metal helm. His armor was red and glistened in the  
moonlight, the air around him sparkling slightly as well.

Julian exhaled, his breath a puff of fog in the cool air. He recognized this man; he was quite familiar.

"Magneto," he said. From his poster.

The much older man folded his arms, looking pleased. "I have no doubt you have run endless simulations in your little Danger Room fighting me, Mr. Keller. Please be advised that the  
X-men's programming of me fails to compare."

Julian hesitated.

"I wasn't planning on fighting you," he said.

"We will have a nice little discussion, then, my boy," Magneto said, sounding pleased.


	16. anger

**A/N: **Update delays are caused by my saying 'Hey, wow, look, an accelerated pre-calculus math course! Let's see how much I can cram in my head at once before it explodes!' Holy crap, I'm actually doing it. Final is next week, then starts part 2 of the course...after this I'll be ready for calculus...I already text horribly complicated things to my fiance and say 'HAH I can understand that, can you?'. When we do the 'No, shut up, I love YOU more!' thing, I always win by graphing it...^^

**

* * *

-16-  
_anger_  


* * *

**

"The only way you are going to survive, Mr. Keller, is if the mansion is no longer in existence. The X-men will stop at nothing to recover you…and that school of theirs is hardly  
the ideal environment for such a powerful young man as you, don't you agree?" Magneto said conversationally.

Julian was slumped in a leather chair, in Dr. Garrison's office, feeling very relaxed. His doctor was smiling pleasantly.

"Yeah. Whatever." he said.

"I'm so glad to hear you agree, Julian," Dr. Garrison said. "This is _healthy_ anger. Anger is there for a purpose—to help you focus your energy, direct it into solving your problems."

"Well said, Dr. Garrison, well said," Magneto said, examining the view afforded by the large glass window. "I always knew there was a reason I hired you. You have done  
well with the boy. Much better than the other."

"Other what?" Julian asked.

"Never you mind." Magneto spread his hand against the glass. "Just think…this will soon belong to mutantkind. No longer will we cower in fear.

Julian gave a soft snort.

"You find that amusing?" Magneto asked, his voice calm.

"No, sir," Julian said. "I don't believe you. You'll _never_ get all the mutants to band together…to do what's right. Trust me, I _know_ how we think. I mean, I used to think like  
that, too. Until my school became…"

"Became a death camp," Magneto said softly.

"Well, yeah."

"We will have the final word, my dear boy. When we rule the earth, everything will fall in line." Magneto paused. "Help me now, and I will make you my lieutenant."

Julian paused. "Lieutenant?"

"I'll give you a continent—whatever continent in the world you want—and it will be yours, to dictate. Under my rule, of course—but yours. The citizens will bow to _you. _The slaves—the _homo  
sapiens _population will be yours to deal with as you see fit. No one can offer you more, Mr. Keller."

Julian was listening. "Really? All that?"

"Yes."

"What would I have to do?"

Magneto smiled slightly. "A simple favor. You will end the world for me."

Silence. Julian stared.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"But—I mean—_what?_ "

"Don't worry about the details, my dear boy. I have the means. _You_ have the power. You're the last telekinetic alive that could possibly accomplish what I have in mind." Magneto gave him a confident look.

"The X-men would stop it," Julian said, his eyes glowing slightly. "Whatever it is."

"Do you honestly think I have not planned this thoroughly, Mr. Keller? The X-men will not stop it—because they will be dead."

Julian paled.

"I regret the necessity," Magneto said. "The X-men have been a worthy foe. Professor Xavier was once my friend, my one true, great friend. But there will be no room for nonconformists in the new world."

Julian looked at the ground. "Yeah."

"So you will do it?"

Julian paused.

"Can I think about it?"

Magneto nodded. "I will give you the evening to consider. Our plan must be commenced as quickly as possible, now that the device is ready."

**…**

"Don't."

Julian didn't look up at the sound of Laura's footsteps, or her voice. He didn't even wonder how she'd figured out he would be sitting at the top of the building therapy was  
held in. His chin rested on his hands as he looked out across the dark city, his thoughts heavy with the thought of its destruction.

"Please, don't. You can't take this back," she said, her voice barely audible above the wind. "I know what he has asked you."

Julian stiffened. "What?"

"He has asked you to power the machine," Laura said, now standing beside him, her arms folded, her long silky scarf whipping in the wind, along with her hair. "Julian…believe me, you will regret it."

He scowled. "How do you know what I want?"

"I know you want to live," Laura said softly, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Very desperately. You want life, for yourself and your friends. That won't happen if you power the  
machine. It…you wouldn't live to see Magneto's grand new world, Julian, because you would die creating it."

"What?" he asked, surprised.

"I take it he did not inform you of _how_ his invention works," Laura said.

"No."

She paused. "It would draw on all the power you have. Until you have none left. His 'grand scheme', his 'master plan', is to utterly destroy anyone in North America without an X-gene. The machine  
is an amplifier and a focus; it will make you ten times stronger by forcing your powers to use _all _of your brain, even your automatic functions, to feed the machine." She paused. "It is programmed  
with DNA to locate anyone without a certain gene sequence, and…well…to cremate them."

Julian stared at her, too stunned to absorb the full meaning. "So you're in on all this?" he asked, realizing she had to be.

Laura nodded.

"The whole time? And you didn't tell me?"

"I couldn't. You live in close quarters with six telepaths."

He continued to stare at her.

"What were you hired to do, Laura?"

"I cannot divulge that. The telepaths would sense it, in your mind…and you will still need to return to the mansion, one last time."

_One last time. _Julian swallowed.

"Don't do it," Laura said again. "I—I've changed my mind. You may be my apprentice. We'll leave…go somewhere where they will not find us…"

"Laura—"

She crouched beside him and threaded her fingers through the side of his hair. "I do not want you to die…it wouldn't be the same anymore."

"I won't die. I've nearly been killed before…and they didn't succeed. And you know how it goes…what doesn't kill you—"

"—will leave a scar," Laura said suddenly.

He paused. That hadn't been what he was going to say; but it was true, very true.

"Reconsider," Laura said, rising to her feet. "I have to go. I have…I have a mission, a contract to fulfill. I will return for you…I hope to find you alive."

Julian was silent.

She turned, walked to the access door, and left the rooftop, her heels clicking behind her in a very final way.

**…**

Looking for some kind of distraction, Julian turned on the tv in the hotel room Magneto had rented him for the evening. He froze, seeing the headline:

_"TWO STUDENTS DEAD AT XAVIER'S SCHOOL FOR GIFTED INDIVIDUALS. One Cessily Kincaid, aged 16, and one Sooraya Qadir, aged 16, in an attack by unidentified _  
_assailants with high-power state-of-the-art-weaponry…"_


	17. apocalypse now?

**-17-  
Apocalypse...now?**

* * *

"Yes," Julian said, his eyes glowing dimly. "I'll do it. I'm tired of death…I'm tired of war. If the apocalypse is at hand, and is in my control, then I'd rather do it in one sweep than piece by piece."

"Well stated," Magneto said, patting his shoulder. "And very timely, too. We will begin our siege of the Xavier institute this afternoon…and you will accompany us."

Julian froze. "What?"

"For recruiting purposes, Mr. Keller. You will return to the school…gather whoever you can…as quietly and discreetly as possible….we will wait on the lawn. And then we will exterminate what cannot  
be saved. A tasteless and unfavorable task, but very necessary."

"But—the telepaths—"

"You will be given a psionic dampener to wear in your ear. It is not nearly as effective as my helmet—" Magneto paused to tap his head covering at the temple. "—or as foolproof as anti-psionic mental  
shielding—but it will do fine to conceal your purposes."

"Oh."

Magneto looked over at Dr. Garrison, who was standing near the bookcase. "Mystique, please see that the boy is outfitted properly."

"My pleasure," the man said in a woman's voice. Julian watched in astonishment as his therapist rippled, his skin blotching over, and then smoothing into…blue. A blue woman with bright orange hair,  
and gleaming white teeth.

"Welcome aboard, Hellion," Mystique said.

…

Laura's back was very straight as she sat in the chair, across from the headmistress of Xavier's school, whom was gazing at her coolly, distastefully, as if she were a lipstick stain on the collar of her husband's shirt.

"I do not appreciate what you have done," Ms. Frost said.

Laura was calm.

"And what is it I have done?" she asked.

"You know very well. You have misled the boy." Ms. Frost said. "You have made him think you _feel_ something for him, when a lady like yourself could never have such intentions."

"I have never told Julian I feel anything for him," Laura said. "In fact, I have made it quite clear that we can never be anything more."

"More than…"

Laura paused. Ms. Frost was waiting, expectantly. She _knew, _somehow, oh yes she knew, she could see the look. Perhaps through his friend, Cessily.

"A streetwalker and a client," Laura said bluntly.

Ms. Frost nodded slowly. "We're more alike than you think. I too…had a tremulous past. There are things I regret now. Although I regret the path I have taken to get here…I do not regret the destination."

Laura said nothing.

"Respect my wishes. I know what is best for Julian. He is grieving…and he is especially vulnerable. You seem to understand human nature. For all his defiance, he is a scared little boy, open to suggestion,  
and I would be very angry if he were to fall to harm."

"That is why I am here," Laura said calmly. "I am afraid Julian _has_ fallen to harm."

Emma Frost turned into diamond, pure diamond, like a cold snap. "_What?_" she demanded, her voice biting, cold. Full of barely restrained fury.

"Please, allow me to explain," Laura said. "It has not happened yet, just yet. Julian is in bad company, and while it is partially my fault…I find I do not wish it on him. The past few months that I have known  
him…have been far more interesting and enjoyable than I care to admit…and I feel I would be at a loss if he does what this company would wish of him."

Emma Frost stared at her, unconsciously shifting back into her normal form again. Something about the way Laura spoke was very heartfelt; despite her anger, she felt a shift in her opinion of the  
girl. She had not declared emotions they would both know to be false; she had not fabricated a story; she had merely stated plain and simple facts.

"Who is this 'bad company', Ms. Kinney?" she asked.

Laura paused. "Mr. Eric Lensherr. Otherwise known as Magneto."

Emma Frost inhaled, closed her eyes. "Dear god…not now," she said. "I assume there is a master plan, then?"

Laura tilted her head. "Yes. Magneto will have offered him great power—and great justice—in exchange for a simple little task: ending the world, or at least a large portion of it. What Julian wasn't  
informed was that it would kill him in the process."

"I assume you've clarified that fact for him," Emma said dryly.

"Yes."

"And what did he say?" she asked, even though she knew the answer. Julian was too hot-headed, too impulsive; if he thought the cause was right, he'd easily throw his life away to achieve it.

"Nothing. I believe he will do it. That is why I have come to you."

"Damnit all to hell." Emma's diamond disappeared, and she leaned her face on her palms. "We will end this…but it is hard to save a person who doesn't _want_ to be saved."

"Yes," Laura said. She paused. "I will help you recover him. I know where they will take him."

"Very well," Emma Frost said. "But after that…you will never contact him again, understood? As I said, it is hard to save a person in his frame of mind…and if there are outside distractions—such as  
yourself—then it will never work."

"Yes," Laura said again, looking down slightly.

**…**

"How do you feel?"

"Ready," Julian replied coolly, smoothing down the front of his gear. He and a few others of what he had been informed was the collective 'Brotherhood' were gathered in a circle, inside a dark,  
cathedral-like building. An old abandoned church as it were. Housing a new kind of religion…a cult.

Julian closed his eyes, thought of his friends. Who he was…giving a swift and merciful death, if they wouldn't join the proposed utopia.

"Good man," Magneto said, patting his shoulder. "Blink…we are prepared. At any moment…to the gates, please. I have always pictured a satisfying march up Xavier's cursed impeccable driveway; destroying the gates are symbolic."

The purple girl nodded, her eyes glowing in the dark.

As a purple wave spread around them, Julian reached up to his ear, and adjusted the device, the anti-psionic device. And removed it, whether intentionally or accidentally—partially both.

_**BLINK!  
**_

**…**

Emma Frost suddenly straightened in her chair, her eyes wide, unfocused.

"Too late," she said. "They are here."

Laura paled. "How do you know?"

"Hellion's here, and I can read his mind. It is as you have warned." Emma stood up, her hand on her temple, alerting. In a moment, in a heartbeat, everyone in the school knew of the presence at the gates.

"But…they planned to wear anti-psionic devices," Laura said.

"He's not wearing his. Ms. Kinney…it is time to declare a side in this war we are fighting. You seem to sympathize with our cause most…will you fight with us?"

Laura's eyes widened. "I cannot." She said the words, but Emma could tell she was considering, weighing her options. Which side was more likely to win?

"What did Magneto promise you to work for him?" Emma asked, her eyes narrowing.

The girl closed her eyes. "Revenge. Satisfaction."

"Against who?" Emma asked.

"Wolverine," Laura said the name coolly, distastefully. "He promised to extract the adamantium in his skeleton, so it could be mine, so I could be completely metal inside…instead of only a partial,  
incomplete project." Laura's eyes were full of bitterness. "He promised that I would receive the twitching, trembling, sniveling remains…so I could torture him as I pleased."

Emma raised her eyebrow. "What a heart-touching sentiment. Why do you hate Mr. Logan so?"

"I'd rather not say."

"We don't have much time."

"I am his clone," Laura said bitterly. "I am nothing, but I exist because of him…he was involved in this miserable story I live, which I cannot escape, no matter how hard I've tried. I am what I was made to be."

"Surely you believe in evolution?" Emma said, leaning over the table. "We rather require your services at the moment, Ms. Kinney. I will give you peace-of-mind and meaning, if you should ally yourself with us."

Laura blinked. "Why would you require my assistance?" she asked.

"We are rather vulnerable at the moment," Emma admitted. "Mr. Summers and many other key members have been deployed to situations in the middle East." She paused. "Show me that you care for the boy. Assist us."

Laura sighed. "I suppose. Yes."

**...  
**

**_KRACK-OWWWWWWWWWW!_**

The sound of Xavier's gates being rolled away like curls of butter before Magneto, after his forcing the security tapes into an endless loop to prevent detection. Julian suppressed a memory—seeing  
Nori at the gates, years before, and sneering at her clothes and dirty appearance. He'd never thought that, someday he would fight side-by-side with the girl, to survive.

_To survive. _He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth; now he would help her, help her survive, help them all. No matter who they were—all they had to do was say yes.

Some uneasy fragment of his heart had made his hand reach up and undo his concealing device; perhaps so that they'd have a fighting chance. Maybe he knew what he was doing was wrong.

Cheating, somehow.

"Onwards," Magneto said confidently, sharing none of his hesitation. Julian followed, as the rest of the group moved forwards; he had the sensation of being swept along with a wave—a tide—that was  
too great for him to stop, even if he wanted.

They met the residents of the mansion on the steps.

The students of the school—he spotted Nori, and David, and Santo amongst them—Elixir—he knew he wouldn't find some of his friends. Rogue crossed her arms, standing beside Emma Frost in the center,  
her fur collar and cape shining white in the semi-darkness. And on the other side stood Laura, her face pale, her dark hair floating slightly in the cool breeze, like from some kind of tragic black-and-white movie.

She looked mildly distressed. Something touched him; he knew this was fear for himself, he was seeing, as if an onlooker, a tourist viewing a landmark, a painting. But it was too surreal to be actual.

No body spoke for a moment.

"Ah," Magneto said, not looking surprised, even at the sudden change in plans. "Hello, my dear Emma," Magneto said. He nodded to Rogue, his smile deepening. "Anna, how could I forget."

"This is ah _SCHOOL—_" Rogue started in fury, but Emma held up a finger.

"I hope you are well, Mr. Lensherr," she said, smiling slightly.

"And yourself," Magneto replied. "I assume you understand why we are here."

"Of course," Emma answered, as if surprised he would think otherwise.

"And you won't reconsider my offer?"

"Absolutely not, darling." Emma put her hands on her hips. "I suppose requesting you to leave will not be sufficient."

Julian felt numb. His heart was beating too fast. He couldn't—

**_That's it, _**Emma said in his mind. **_It's not too late. All you need do is walk across the lawn. _**

"We are merely here to canvass your students," Magneto said. "Of course, anyone who does not sign up will be executed, unfortunately."

"Very unfortunately," said Emma coolly. **_Hellion. You do not want to do this. There are other ways to express displeasure, to win this war we fight. Not only will you exterminate the  
guilty—but the innocent as well. Your parents. And anyone who stands in that madman's way. Is this what you want? _**

"Ladies and gentlemen…this is your first, and _only_ chance, to side yourself with the winning side; the survivors, the new kings of the world. Should you assist us in making the world a better place,  
you will be allowed to live in it. All you need do is come here."

Julian swallowed.

**_We will protect you. Come here, _**Emma said, confidently, warmly, encouragingly. Desperately.

He saw Cessily, as he'd last seen her, and knew what he'd have to do.

The first step was the hardest; the next was easier, and easier, and then he was running, as fast as he could.

"TRAITOR!" Magneto bellowed, looking genuinely surprised now. He'd been so sure that the boy had seen the same light that he had. "Very well." He made the first shot, a field of  
ore-containing pebbles rising to his command and spraying the opposite side like bullets.

Laura met the boy with open arms. The second they touched, the field erupted, turning into a war zone. For one moment it didn't matter. They were elsewhere. Then she fell to her  
knees, clasping her wrist; Magneto was on the rampage, in furious tantrum. Her claws began to pierce her skin, blood pooling uncontrollably between her knuckles.

The claws were bending. She was obviously in a great deal of pain.

"No…no…here," Julian said, concentrating on bending them back in place.

"We have to assist them," Laura said, looking at the combatants. "We can celebrate your defection later, Mr. Keller. I will take care of Mr. Lensherr, if you will be so kind as to provide a  
distraction." She suddenly sprung away, like an animal, her claws out and sweeping.

Julian stared after her. Was she _crazy? _It was Magneto, one of the most powerful mutants in existence. _And _she had metal inside her.

And she was the girl he'd fallen in love with; running towards his benefactor-turned-villain. He couldn't let her do it alone.

Julian followed, grabbing whatever he could in the way of arsenal in a mental cloud behind himself. Reaching the frontlines, he sprayed debris at the mansion's attackers; most were  
deflected by Magneto, with a condescending look.

"Really, child, did you hope to harm me?"

"Kind of," Julian said, fighting the sudden force wave crashing down on him, crushing him…his own energy was nothing in comparison…

"My dear, I'm rather _insulted,_" Magneto said, not even turning around to face Laura. She was lifted into the air, her fists and feet glowing; her expression morphing to one of extreme pain.

Now all of her was glowing.

"Don't, please," Julian said, in a small voice.

"And they will shout "save us"! And I will whisper "No"," Magneto said, in quotation, smiling slightly. "An eye for an eye, Mr. Keller. One betrayal for another."

The air around Laura grew red with misty blood, as Magneto removed the metal claws from her hands and feet, and then the iron in her bloodstream. And then, her still-beating heart  
emerged from her chest—or, rather, a dense mist that appeared to resemble it. After a few moments she stopped struggling, collapsing, and Magneto's hand unclenched. She fell to the  
earth with a _plop! _and did not move.

"You see, Mr. Keller…that is what I do to traitors," the man said, returning to the boy in question . Julian stared, unblinkingly. That couldn't be it.

"What I will do to you is nothing," Magneto said. "I will put you in my machine, and you will help me, willing or not, to make this world a better place." He smiled grimly. "If you survive, I will…"

Magneto paused, and clapped a hand to his abdomen. "…" Blood was seaping through, where something stuck through. It proceeded to rip upwards, inch by inch, accompanied by  
the sounds of fabric tearing; Magneto teetered.

Laura peered around his torso. "Mr. Keller, now would be a premium opportunity to escape, if I may say so." She gave the man a push; he fell to his knees, his mouth agape in surprise and pain.

"But…your heart…he took your heart out…"

"Just the iron in it, Mr. Keller. Not all of it. He often forgets I have a healing factor, the silly old man." Laura inclined slightly and patted Magneto's helmet. "Please, I am not at my  
strongest…I am quite anemic. Focus on the tasks at hand."

"Grrr!" Magneto swept the girl away with a force pulse. "BLINK!" he shouted, staggering back to his feet. "GET OVER HERE!"

"Right behind you, boss," the purple girl said—indeed, from right behind Magneto—as she snapped her fingers.

Julian had managed to free himself from the hold of the weakened field, but he wasn't prepared for what happened next. Before he could think, before he could breathe, before he could blink…

**_BLINK!  
_**

"Oh, dear," Laura said, raising her head and shielding her face with her hand against the blinding flash.


	18. the very top

**A/N: **Sorry for wait on publishing chapters, I had a period filled with finals, moving, and flying to Iowa (where I am currently, with my fiance) + the holidays. Will still be a bit spacey with updates but I haven't forgotten :-)

* * *

**-18-  
_the very top_  


* * *

  
**  
Julian started as he was suddenly at the top of a tall structure, breathing thin, crisp, cold sea air. _Sea air. _Blink had teleported them to the top of the Statue of Liberty; to the _very_ top; he could  
see the peaks of the crown to his left.

They were in the torch.

Magneto was standing, slightly curled, holding his injury. He waved Blink aside as she attempted to lay her hands on him. "Later…right now, I must put him in the machine. I will be fine. Do me a  
favor and do that trick of yours…"

"With pleasure," Blink said, smiling and reaching behind herself. She pulled out a glowing white diamond and flung it at him in a quick, viper like fashion; in response, Julian folded to the floor, his eyes rolling up in his head.

"Excellent," Magneto said, bending ever so slightly into the bloody palm of his hand, his voice hoarse. "Let's strap him in, then…shall we?"

**…**

"This bodes ill," Emma Frost said distastefully. The battle had suddenly ceased, when the other side had disappeared in a flash of light.

"Mmm," Laura said, wiping blood from her mouth and coming to stand beside the headmistress. "I require some iron supplements, quite badly…at least, if I'm to be of any help in recovering the individuals in question."

"Nori, take her to the infirmary," Emma said. "I will be in Cerebra." She swept towards the school, her cape waving in the breeze.

The girl—Nori—eyed Laura skeptically. "That was cool, what you did earlier," she said. "You took down _Magneto. _Well, hit him at least."

Laura knelt on the ground, gathering shining strips of metal up, then straightened. Her claws. "Just a moment."

Nori looked on—and gagged—as Laura calmly performed her re-clawing ritual. Afterwards, the girl wiped her knuckles on the dew-damp grass, then rose to her feet and smiled at her guide. "I am ready."

"Julian sure knows how to pick 'em," Nori mumbled under her breath, too disconcerted by the whole event to even confront Laura about it.

…

After procuring some supplements (and popping them like candy, as she was restoring her entire iron supply), Laura followed the other girl downstairs to an elevator, and pretended not to watch as Nori  
punched in some codes to take them down to the sub-levels. Of course, she could tell which buttons Nori had pressed by the _tap tap tappa tap _sounds.

The doors hissed open, and the girls made their way down a long, entirely metal corridor. Laura looked around herself in wonder. There must be millions of dollars of technology here, at her fingertips. She  
felt a longing to find their hangar, but they were approaching a metal door with a large 'X' emblazoned in the middle, in neon blue light.

"That means Cerebra's in use," Nori said as she reached over to the access pad beside the door and pressed her hand to it, leaning forwards so another scanner could pass over her eyeball. Fingerprint  
verification. Easily overcome with a severed hand and an extracted eyeball, Laura noted.

The door slid away in four pieces—bottom, top and sides all simultaneously—and Laura could see an enormous dark, circular metal room with shimmering panels, all moving and blinking out and  
winking in. In the center, at the end of a long catwalk sat Emma Frost, a metal helmet on her head with octopus-like extensions connecting her to the machine, and a few cords that disappeared  
into the faraway ceiling.

A few people stood around the headmistress; Rogue, for one; Santo and David. They turned their heads at the arrival of Nori and Laura.

"Cerebra," Laura murmured as she closed in on the great, fabled machine. Part of her went crazy with power-lust. Every bidder in the world would give her control of their empires, bank accounts, for a _  
moment _at this machine. Her palm finally touched the dashboard, her skin tingled.

"I know what you're thinking, and the answer is _no,_" Emma said sternly.

Laura blinked. How stupid of her; her anti-telepathy training barely concealed her thoughts from Ms. Frost as it was; with the power of Cerebra, the woman could shatter her defenses like a  
boulder collapsing a house of cards.

"My apologies," she murmured demurely.

"I can't find anything. Hellion is unconscious at the moment, anything I can see is just jibberish."

_Hiss_. The doors to Cerebra opened, and in strode several more senior X-men in uniform. Laura recognized them on sight—Cyclops, the headmaster—Colossus, the metal Russian, and—_Wolverine._

The latter stopped; Laura stiffened, and both pairs of claws came out.

"What is _she_ doin' here?" Logan roared.

"…" Cyclops and a few other people looked at the speaker in surprise. "You've met Laura?" the headmaster asked, having been introduced to her briefly during the assault on the mansion.

"Yeah. As much as I ever wanted to," Logan said, his voice sour. "She's out. Now."

Laura had gone pale, her nostrils flaring, her eyes glittering darkly.

"I've requested her to help us in tracking down a wayward student in a crisis situation," Emma said. "Until then, please make an effort to behave yourself."

"You don't—" Logan started.

"Later," Cyclops said, holding up his hand. Laura noted that something seemed to have passed between himself and Ms. Frost. "We have a _big_ problem here. We need to find out where  
that boy is now, or—"

"I know where he is," Laura said calmly.

"Speak," Emma commanded.

"I do not appreciate being treated like a dog," Laura said mildly. "However, I care for the boy's well being. They have taken him to the Statue of Liberty; more precisely, to the liberty light."

"We're wasting time," Cyclops said.

Laura liked him.

Logan fell silent, but glared at the girl. He obviously had many things to say.

**…**

A few minutes later—a decade—an hour—a century—Julian's eyes opened, and he groaned. He tried to reach up and rub his aching head, but his hands wouldn't respond; they were immobilized,  
by thick metal bracers. He looked down, trying to think his way out, but they wouldn't budge.

"Not as long…as I'm here," Magneto wheezed. Laura's attack had taken it's toll; the man was almost doubled over, holding his stomach and dripping blood. But his powers weren't weakening  
yet; Magneto had amazing willpower.

Julian closed his eyes, hearing electronic clicks and whurrs. The machine…the 'doomsday device'…it was starting. "A pity that you had to baulk, Mr. Keller. Your demise would have been all the more noble,  
being the messiah rather than a unwilling sacrifice. But, as you can see…I have no qualms either way."

A pulling. At the base of his spine. In panic, Julian fought to shield himself; the feeling increased, and Magneto gave a dry sound of amusement. "By all means…fight it…you will only feed it more."

It couldn't end like this, he thought from far away. _Thinking _was becoming harder, as the machine was drawing in his thoughts to power it. And it hurt, like hell. Like his spine was full of angry hornets.

"ARRRGH," he moaned, and only then did he realize he was gagged, with a rubber ball in his mouth. Magneto had guessed it would be painful.

The man suddenly looked to the side, at the sleek roar of approaching aircraft. Julian shifted his eyes, blearily, to the side—an X-jet. He closed his eyes—they might be too late. The machine was already  
glowing bright green in the center, and it hurt his eyes to look. Like a small sun.

He levitated off the ground and made the short flight from the light down to the crown of the statue, where Blink awaited him.

_Ms. Frost…_Julian thought faintly.

_**Coming, **_Emma's voice resonated inside his emptying skull. That was the last thought he heard, either his own or anyone else's.

There was a soft, exploding noise, accompanied with a lot of light. A bubble formed around the machine, and loud gear-changing sounds could be heard. Fan belts to the sides began spinning, and then  
they became invisible to the naked eye; the bubble was spreading slowly, as the machine began to speed up.

Magneto looked up from where he had resettled for Blink's transport; the X-jet had smoothly descended till it was directly on top of the crown of the statue. The loading door had opened and out came a  
tangle of opponents, Emma Frost in the lead—surprisingly not in diamond form.

"AHH!" Blink shouted, stumbling and then falling to the ground.

"Very well," Magneto said, pursing his lips.

"Angel. Get Laura over there. She should be able to shut the machine down," Cyclops ordered.

"There's nothing—" Laura began, but she'd been grabbed around the waist, and now her eyes were full of the drop between the statue and the light.

"You put an end to this, or you'll meet a messy end yourself," Angel said in a low voice, sweeping over to towards the light; but Magneto had other ideas. Her carrier made a funny noise then struck the side  
of the light; he made it over the edge, but Laura did not.

She dropped like a rock, swiftly out of sight. When she recollected her senses from the pulse that had hit them, she ejected her claws with a _snkkt _and stabbed them into the first thing she could  
reach—the elbow of the liberty statue.

Laura looked down first, at the drop. Then she looked up, at the light, which was now just a glowing white ball that stung her eyes so fiercely it brought tears. She wondered how far gone he was by  
now; if the machine had been on for long enough, he'd be ashes, since only his energy was required—all of it.

She made a face, popped all of her other claws—_snkkt_—and began to climb, firmly anchored to the arm, leaving deep slits in the statue's surface.


	19. a night to remember

**-****19-_  
_**

**_A Night to Remember  
_**

* * *

Laura's almond-shaped eyes peered over the top of the light timidly, afraid of what she'd see. She relaxed slightly as dimly, through the light, she could see a form—and it wasn't skeletal.

She had moments to act though. The bubble was beginning to expand more rapidly. With a small grunt, she swung herself over the spikes that rimmed the light and tumbled onto the floor, near Angel, who was still, his  
feathers ruffling in the energy. Laura closed her eyes—her face was hot, like she was near a furnace, so close to the source of the power.

Moving like a viper, she shot to the boy and hacked at his bindings. She didn't know what would happen if she destroyed the machine; she also knew he might be irrevocably damaged if he was simply torn out.

She understood something of the mechanics of this device, having seen its blueprints, and having listened with a demure smile as Magneto bragged.

No one could stop it, the power source couldn't be taken away…once it started, it was perpetual. The effects of having the power ripped away were unknown. It might create some sort of black hole.

But perhaps, the power could be replaced.

The bubble froze for a moment. Then it began to retract, all too quickly, and Laura knew what came next. It was her call, if it happened.

Closing her eyes, she pushed the boy out of the way and took his place at the moment the bubble had retracted completely.

**…**

For a moment, the light was bright white, then it spread like a small atomic explosion that swept over the sea like the wind. It was over in the blink of an eye; halfway across the gulf between Liberty Island and land it stopped, worn out.

Angel came to and raised his head at the loud roaring sound, to see something quite horrible. A burnt skeleton, blackened and charred, leaning against the brace for the machine; two metal blades hit the ground on one side, no longer bound together by flesh.

Panic. Magneto had succeeded. He grimaced, then realized that the skeleton wasn't the boy's; the kid didn't have claws. Warren remembered the girl he'd flown over the gap, and realized it was her.

Looking away, Warren noted the boy, then reached for him and swept into the air. Life went on.

**…**

"How's it going?" Scott asked, a month later, holding a mug of steaming tea for the telepath seated at the bedside.

Emma opened her eyes. She sat by the boy's bedside, holding his hand and slowly repairing his damaged mind. "Slowly. But I think…I might be able to use Cerebra tomorrow. His memories are there, just unassociated…the  
connections were destroyed. I've been working on reassigning his breathing functions to his medulla oblangata, so he won't need this ghastly old thing anymore."

Scott gave a half-hearted smile.

After the machine had exploded without reaching land, Magneto had seemed to lose heart, and they had been about to subdue him when Blink had awoken—Emma, in diamond form, was unable to keep suppressing her—and teleported  
both herself and her master away.

Hank had arrived moments later, having been in China when the call went out. He was too late to fight, but was in time to patch the wounded, beginning with the boy. Julian was pronounced dead at the scene, after attempted CPR. Emma  
had refused to accept this, insisting the problem was psychological; she'd made the doctor hook the boy up to the mobile life support unit.

Upon reaching the mansion, Emma had looked into his mind…and found it was nothing but a container of loose memories and unsorted functions; the ties that bound everything together were gone. She insisted she could fix him,  
and spent almost every day with him since.

"At least I recovered his cardiac functions," Emma said, trying to sound cheerful. "If you noticed, Hank was able to remove the heart machine yesterday. He's on his own now."

"That's great. You're doing a good job, Emma."

"Am I?" Emma asked, staring into space. "I allowed this to happen. My student…my favorite student. He's unable to breathe on his own because I _cared_ for him _just so much,_ Scott…is my care really a good thing for this school?"

"Of course it is. Don't be silly," Scott said dismissively. "I brought you some tea."

"Thank you, darling," Emma said, reaching up for it, her eyes suspiciously glossy. Scott helped more than he knew, by making her feel silly for ever doubting herself, in his own matter-of-fact way. It didn't reassure her, but it did comfort her.

"Keep it up," Scott said. "He'll be causing us trouble again in no time."

**…**

"Hey," Scott said to Logan. He'd found the older man out in the mansion cemetery, beside the grave of the freshly interred girl.

Logan didn't answer, just studied the headstone. It said "_Laura Kinney_" on the top line, and the second said "_A treasured friend_". That had been Emma's idea, as she'd wanted so badly to do something for Julian, and she'd seen, in his  
brain, how he felt about the girl. She wanted to give him something to mourn, show him she respected his connection.

"She was no friend o' mine," Logan said, his voice low. "Bitch nearly did me in a few times. She worked for the other side."

"Don't speak ill of the dead," Scott advised. "Besides, she was your kin, Logan. Doesn't that mean anything?"

Logan shifted. Suspicious of a connection, Hank had run DNA tests on the remains before they had been interred. The results had shown that Laura was basically Logan's genetic twin; a clone, suggested Hank.

"From what Emma said, she didn't lead an easy life," Scott added. "She was brought up by monsters."

"It's hard to drop a grudge you've been holdin' so long," Logan said. "Yeah, I don't like that they treated a kid like that. But that girl…she _liked_what she did. She lived for it."

"She came to love the life her creators made her for. That's all she knew. How does a baby learn English if she's taught French?"

Logan grunted.

"You might have been the same," Scott pointed out.

"Make no mistake, bub…we're not," Logan said, but he didn't sound so convincing. Deep down, the older man saw himself in Laura…the self he tried to conceal, tried to pad with emotion and gruffness and  
honor. The side that _liked_ what he did, what he had done.

The older man turned and stalked towards the mansion; Scott followed.

**…**

Two weeks later, Julian emerged from a long tunnel into the harsh daylight, blinking his eyes. He couldn't see anything except a bright light, and it stung. He was extremely confused, and unsure of what was going on.

"Werr….ow…lee…" he said, his voice hoarse and dry.

"Give…moment," someone said from far away. Fuzzily. "…adjusting…time…"

"Welk…fett…oop…" Julian convulsed in anger, then laughed, and made a screechy noise as he was overcome by a wall of different, artificial emotions. He began to struggle and was pinned down, roaring different  
noises until suddenly he was talking English again.

"_**URRK…BLAT…LAK…BLEE…YUNT…WHADD…THE HELL!**_" he shouted. "_**GET ME OUT OF THIS FUCKIN—" **_He could suddenly see again, the random shapes in front of his eyes merging into a picture as his brain  
accepted that vision fed his optic nerve.

The machine was gone, which was what he realized he'd been screaming about.

He tasted sour, and suddenly a tray was shoved under his face. He vomited violently until he brought up clear juices, and a little blood.

"Give him something to help," Emma instructed. _Emma Frost. _Julian realized he was holding something—her hand—very tightly. He didn't let go—he was more frightened than he'd even been in his life.

His _life. _Flashing before his eyes. There was a lot of it—he was overwhelmed and put the thoughts away, almost hyperventilating.

"Coming back from the dead is never easy," Emma told Scott, standing on the side.

**…**

Four days later. He sat in bed, practicing finger exercises, relearning how to move his body as his mind relearned how to think. He mulled over his thoughts, thinking that something was missing, he couldn't recall something big  
that had happened to him before. Just a deep void where it had been, a big, yearning, sucking void, a missing tooth that ached.

Seven days later, and he was learning to walk again. He had a set of physiotherapy rails. It didn't take too long; his legs were fine, albeit a little out of shape; he just wasn't used to using them. He thought, in the meantime;  
exercises for his mind that Emma Frost had prescribed. The void refused to die down.

Ten days later, he slammed open the headmistress's doors and came to a halt in front of her desk. "You left something out," he accused.

Emma hesitated. "It's for your own good," she said.

"If it happened, I deserve to know," he said quietly.

Emma closed her eyes, then nodded slightly. "Come here."

Immediately after, he wished he hadn't. A starburst of pain, fear, anger, hurt—his friends dying, his terror that he would die if he remained at the institute (he had died anyways), Cessily, Sooraya.

Then Laura hit him, and a smile spread slowly across his face. _That_ was what he'd been missing, the feeling that he could do anything because she was watching him. He'd felt it when they'd embraced on the lawn, the sudden  
realization that she might actually feel something for him too.

He stiffened.

"Where _is_Laura, anyway?" he asked. He hadn't seen her for ages. She would have dropped in to see him, for sure. After what he'd seen during the fights…

Emma wouldn't meet his eyes. "She's outside."

**…**

Julian crossed the lawn numbly, not noticing the other kids playing Frisbee, laughing, enjoying themselves. He passed the picnic area, the basketball court, the entrance to the forest trails where they had sneaked away so long  
ago, the swimming pool, the back lawn, and entered the cemetery, somehow knowing she was here, even though she couldn't die.

There was a starling sitting on her grave marker. It flew away as he approached.

"Laura…a treasured friend," he read aloud. His voice echoed a little amongst the tombstones. His hands shook at his sides; he fell to his knees and everything stopped for him.

"Julian," after a while, behind him. Emma Frost, standing at the gates of the cemetery, her expression tense. "I'm sorry."

The boy remained silent, staring at the stone that was all that was left. And whatever was below. Was Laura just a body? _Could _she be just a body? He refused to believe it. Making an animalistic sound, he began to tear up the  
earth with his bare hands. They'd made a mistake, of course, they'd buried her alive.

"Darling, stop," Emma said, reading his mind.

He remembered his powers. _**VRRM! VRRRM! VRRRRM! **_Little bursts of energy, sparks at his fingertips, bringing with them foot-sized chunks of earth. He didn't have all that much left after the machine, but he had enough to move  
small objects, and he would chip his way down…

"_**STOP,**_" Emma's voice, like an ice shard through his mind. Rooting him in place. "She's gone, utterly. You will find nothing but remains." Feeling his refusal to accept this, Emma briefly showed him a mental image of what she had  
seen: a black skeleton, devoid of life.

"She heals," Julian said, his voice cracking. "Like W-wolv…Wolverine."

Silence. He started to cry, unashamedly, and punched the earth till his knuckles were bloody. Emma watched him, not stopping him now; after a while he stopped. She advanced and wrapped him in an embrace, rubbing his back  
and soothing him like a mother swan wrapping a wing around a chick.

"Think of your good times together," she said gently. "They will never die. Laura gave her life for you and the world…she died a hero, and we will not forget." She paused. "What would you like to do to remember her?"

Julian choked on a sob. "Kill people," he said through gritted teeth. "Kill Magneto, kill that fucking purple cunt, kill that fucking therapist that was Mystique, kill…"

Emma felt blackness, and understood, sympathized, but did not approve. "No more death, Julian. It ends with Laura. It _must_ end, or there will be no one left to regret it, no one left to remember."

_No one left to remember. _Julian sniffled. There almost had been no one, no one at all—he would have been dead, too.

"I am sorry," Emma said. "We're doing the best we can. Always. Everyone here has experienced your emotions themselves. I, too, wished to kill those responsible…it would be all too easy. But doing so will forever  
endanger us as monsters in the eyes of the public."

Julian remained silent. After a time he followed Emma to the school, still holding her hand, his expression that of a lost child.

_**The end**_

* * *

**A/B: **Thanks for reading this story, and for all of your reviews! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. I am deciding whether or not to write a sequel; I have some material written that was originally  
going to be more chapters for this story, but felt it was complete at this point. The material might be appropriate for a sequel, however. What do you think? Let me know in the reviews...is this a good ending or do you want more?

~onelildustbunni_**  
**_


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